Crossing Kansas
by TallerInPerson
Summary: It was only a matter of time until they met. What happens when Chloe Sullivan joins the Winchesters on their mission to stop the apocalypse? Supernatural/Smallville. Chloe/Winchesters. Set Season 5&9 respectively.
1. Only Beginning

**Summary: **It was only a matter of time until Chloe and the Winchesters found out about each other.

**A/N:** I came up with this idea when reading about some less-than-pleased reviews on Smallville. Many people expressed their desire for Chloe to join SPN. So, that's what I did...sort of...

* * *

Chloe took a deep breath as the web browser booted up. It felt good to be back behind her laptop. It was her personal therapy. All she needed was a cup of coffee and a keyboard, and she could forget all her worries.

Or at least pretend to.

It was kind of hard to forget her worries when she was researching them. But no matter how freaked out she was, she couldn't curb her curiosity. Ever since finding out she had come back from the dead—thanks to her not-so-dormant meteor powers—she had been researching other stories like hers.

She wasn't completely sure what she'd do if she found someone with her particular brand of meteor power, but she kept looking. She needed information. She needed to know what she was dealing with. Coming back from the dead—_healing someone_ then coming back from the dead—wasn't something that was covered on WebMD. It was going to take her digging skills to find any information.

Unfortunately, all she'd found so far were a few stories about people who'd been brought back from the edge of death thanks to their medical staff. They weren't the answers she was looking for. _Her_ medical staff had locked her body up in a morgue. They'd had nothing to do with her resurrection.

She pursed her lips and tried another search, seeking out sites and connections the average Google user wouldn't bother looking for.

_Bank Robber Linked to Dead St. Louis Murderer._

As far as leads went, she'd seen worse. She just hoped she'd finally found something more than a simple hospital miracle or case of mistaken identity.

She wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of sharing powers with a murderer, but if it gave her the answers she was looking for…

She clicked the link.

* * *

Sam took a sip of his coffee as he read over that morning's newspaper. After browsing the obituaries and coming up empty handed, he'd turned to the news hoping to find a case. It had been a week since Lincoln and Sam was itching for a hunt. He needed something to distract him from his thoughts.

His research to get Dean out his deal would never stop, but that didn't mean he wanted to think about everything that went with his brother's suicidal deal. _Pain. Torture. Damnation._

It would have been so much easier if he hated his brother.

_Body Stolen from Smallville Medical Center._ There. He'd found it.

He felt a moment of relief, as he started reading the article. A stolen corpse could just be someone's sick idea of a joke, or it could be a case.

He really hoped it was a case.

* * *

Dean Winchester. Born January 24, 1979. "Died" March 7, 2006.

Chloe gave an impressed hum, as she read over Dean's police record. His body had been found at the scene of a crime in Missouri. Then about a year later, he turned up at a bank robbery a few states over. The police weren't able to explain his miraculous reincarnation, but they were still looking into it (at least since the time of the article).

So far, the theories ranged from a twin to plastic surgery. No one believed he'd _actually_ risen from the dead. But then, the police were generally skeptical of anything out of the range of "normal."

With an uncertain sigh, Chloe pushed her laptop away and looked over at her death certificate. She never thought she'd find herself relating to a—possibly meteor infected—killer. It was usually her job to help stop men like Dean, not seek common, power-influenced, ground. Then again, she never thought she would been part of the _meteor infected_ category.

Life as she knew it was changing, and so far Dean Winchester was the only one who seemed to hold at least some of the answers.

If anything, she could at least learn from his example. It was only a matter of time before her death and resurrection became a problem. She needed to take a cue from Dean and make sure people didn't start digging around in her life. The fact that she was alive took away any chance of the police digging up a body, but there was still the small problem of official hospital documents.

First step was to burn the hardcopy. Second step would involve some more computer magic.

And then she was going to do some more research on Dean Winchester. She was a reporter after all. Meteor Freak or not.

* * *

"Smallville, Kansas?"

Sam's mouth quirked at Bobby's astounded tone. It wasn't often he surprised the older man. "Yeah, a body went missing at the local hospital and I think it might be a case."

"You mean you're hoping it's a case," Bobby translated, giving Sam a knowing look.

He didn't bother arguing. Nodding, instead. "Yeah."

Bobby shrugged. "I've heard rumors of supernatural activity there, but no hunter has ever found anything legitimate. If you ask me, it's just a town full of crazies."

"What about the two meteor showers?" Sam pressed, because he couldn't let his case disappear before he had a real chance to investigate it.

"What about them?"

No automatic denial, which meant there was still a chance. "Well according to some citizens, the meteors have the ability to give humans special abilities."

"You mean like superpowers?"

It was Sam's turn to shrug. "I guess."

"Well I know supernatural, not comics. I don't know what to tell you about some magic, space rocks." Bobby handed Sam back the article on the missing corpse then gestured over his shoulder to where Dean was packing the Impala. "But if you can convince your brother to check it out, keep me posted."

"Really?" That wasn't the response he'd been expecting.

"Yeah." Bobby smirked. "I've got a bet going with another hunter that the entire town is nuts. If you can prove it I'm up a hundred bucks."

* * *

"Smallville?" Dean asked after giving the article Sam had placed in his hands a once over. His surprised tone echoed Bobby's.

"Yeah, I think there might be a case."

At the word _case_ Dean smiled. "Well then, what are we waiting for?"

To Be Continued…


	2. First Meeting

Smallville was, well, _small_, but the town had a relatively clean motel and a café with decent coffee. Overall, Sam knew it was better than they could ask for. Clean sheets, strong coffee, and they were happy.

Sometimes, Sam missed the years when he'd expected more. When he'd hoped for a better life for him _and_ his brother.

Now, he just hoped for _life_ for his brother. Better or otherwise. Dirty sheets, weak coffee— anything—as long as it meant his brother would still be around in a year.

"So I think I found our corpse," Dean announced, walking over to the café table and effectively cutting into Sam's thoughts. He tossed a paper at Sam before sitting down, giving his brother a look that said he knew exactly what had been running through his mind.

Sam ignored the look, dropping his attention to the newspaper as his brother continued. "It was a woman named Chloe Sullivan. According to the hospital staff, she came in near-death the day Reeve's Dam burst, but the doctors couldn't do anything for her. Then, less than an hour after she died, her body vanished along with her death certificate.

"Not only that," Dean tapped the table with an excited flourish, "there is no record in the hospital's database that she even came in that day. If it weren't for the memory of the hospital staff, it would be as if she'd never been there."

Sam finally looked up from the newspaper, not seeing any of what his brother had just said in the print. "So why wasn't all that in the news?"

His brother smirked. "Because that information is classified."

Sam huffed a laugh. He knew that smirk. It meant Dean had just spent the last hour chatting up Smallville Medical Center's female staff to learn everything his could for the case. _Working_, as Dean liked to call it.

Sam had another name for it.

"So what's with the newspaper?" he asked, keeping the subject away from his brother's flirting. He set the newspaper down and gestured to the top article. It was about the Metropolis City Hall meeting. One of the council members was running for mayor. Unless that member was related to Chloe, Sam couldn't spot the connection.

"Look at the bottom article," Dean instructed, flipping the paper over. "Chloe Sullivan wrote it. Apparently she's a reporter for the Daily Planet." He looked pleased with the information he'd managed to collect.

"But she lived in Smallville?" Sam asked, trying to remember how far away Smallville was from Metropolis.

"Yeah, one of the nurses told me that Chloe lives with her cousin above a local coffee shop, the Talon." Dean said.

"Wait," Sam cut in, catching something. "You said _lives_."

Dean nodded. "Yes I did."

Sam collected the newspaper and stood, pulling out his wallet to drop a few bills on the table. Missing corpses was one thing. Resurrected corpses was a whole new case. "Did the nurse happen to tell you where to find the Talon?" he asked.

"No," Dean said then shrugged. "But this town is four blocks long. We'll find it."

* * *

The Talon had been easy to find. Chloe, unfortunately, had not. _Working late_, one of the baristas had told Dean—after sliding her phone number across the counter.

Between Dean's brand of questioning and Sam's, they'd quickly confirmed that (a) Chloe was no longer dead and (b) no one they had questioned knew about her death.

If Chloe _had_ come back from the dead, it wasn't something that was widely known.

The only lead they had left to follow was to question Chloe directly or maybe her cousin, who the phone-number-offering barista said shared the upstairs apartment with Chloe.

In the end, Dean had volunteered to stay at the Talon and wait for the cousins while Sam headed back to the motel. His brother had made it sound like he was doing Sam a favor, but Dean wasn't fooling anyone. They both knew it was his way of getting out of research.

Even if Dean knew his way around a computer, it didn't mean he enjoyed sitting in the motel and looking up facts for a case. (_I got a year to live, Sam._) And with his looming deadline, the less time he spent in a motel room—unless it was in the company of a well endowed female—the better.

That was one of his brother's new personality quirks, Sam could handle. The less time Dean spent in the motel room, the more time Sam had to research without getting lectured by him.

He wasn't supposed to be finding a way to break Dean's deal. It was dangerous. But, Sam knew how to ignore his family's orders when he wanted to.

With Dean at the Talon, though, Sam's research was focused on their current case instead of ways to keep Hell out of Dean's future. He still had a case to solve.

Researching Chloe Sullivan and her cousin, Lois Lane, was easy enough. They were both published journalists with enough articles to fill a few portfolios. Unfortunately, none of their articles gave any hint as to what their case was about.

_Fortunately_, the more Sam looked up on the two cousins, the more sure he became of the type of case they were dealing with.

According to the Talon staff, Chloe and Lois were close. According to Dean's digging, Lois had been the one to bring Chloe into the hospital after she'd found her near-death at the dam.

According to Sam's own intuition, Lois had also been the reason for Chloe's resurrection.

They were handling a crossroads deal.

Of course.

Sam ran a hand through his hair. He suddenly regretted ever taking the case. It had been an attempt to forget about his brother's deal for a moment. He should have known better…

Before his dark thoughts could continue, his phone rang, pulling him back to the present. He schooled his thoughts and answered on the second ring. "Yeah?"

"Chloe was a hot, little blonde chick, right?" Dean asked in greeting.

Sam rolled his eyes. "She was a corpse four days ago, Dean. Remember that."

His brother's smirk was almost audible. "No one's perfect, Sammy."

"I'm assuming this means you found her," Sam said, instead of continuing their conversation down the potentially uncomfortable path.

"Yeah, just got home. I'm going to go pay zombie girl a visit."

"Okay, but don't pin her to her grave until you're sure she's not human," Sam instructed, knowing the reaction he'd receive.

As expected, Dean gave an annoyed huff. "Dude, I'm a professional. I know what I'm doing."

Sam smiled. "Just keep me posted."

His brother grumbled a response then hung up. Sam did the same, letting his smile fall as he set the phone down. No amount of joking was going to make the case any easier. Lois had sold her soul just as Dean had. They were both headed for Hell.

And Sam had to find a way to save them.

* * *

There were two stacks of paper on Chloe's coffee table. One with files on Belle Reeve inmates. One with information on Dean Winchester.

One held the future she had feared since finding out she was a meteor freak. One held proof that humans with power usually turned away from their basic instinct to do good.

If Dean had the same power as her, it was obvious he wasn't using it to heal those in need. He was using it for his own personal gain: to commit crimes and avoid punishment. Every article and record she'd tracked down had all pointed towards the same conclusion: Dean Winchester was nothing more than a _gifted_ crook.

She was tempted to leave it at that. To accept the conclusion other newspapers had drawn for her and move on—but she knew better. Newspapers reported facts, but only if the facts they were given made sense. They wouldn't report facts on a bank robber's Lazarus-powers, because they wouldn't believe it to be true.

And maybe, if they had neglected to cover that part of the story, they had neglected to cover other important parts of the story. Maybe Dean wasn't the hardened crook the facts said he was.

Maybe she didn't share meteor powers with a murderer.

Or _maybe_ she was just being naïve.

A sudden knock on her apartment's door, pulled her from internal musings. She frowned, scooping up the stack of paper on Dean Winchester and stuffing it out of sight. It wasn't often she got a visitor that actually knocked and waited for her to open the door. They usually knocked and walked in—if they knocked at all.

She stood and moved to the door, opening it with a greeting smile. If she was lucky, the visitor wouldn't stick around long, and she could return to worrying about her meteor-powered future.

The door opened and her smile faltered—_Or if I'm _very_ lucky, my research subject will show up at my door._

Coincidences were pretty par for the course when it came to the weirdness that was Smallville. But even Chloe was thrown by the coincidence standing in her doorway, smirking like her surprise amused him.

"Chloe Sullivan?" he asked, after a beat.

_Dean Winchester_, she almost echoed, but didn't. Instead, she just nodded, studying him in the same way she'd been studying articles on him for the last two days.

He looked like all the pictures she'd found of him, of course. But, seeing him up close was something unexpected and a little unnerving. If she hadn't just spent all that time with his police file, she would have thought Jason Teague had risen from the grave. A rougher and cockier looking Jason Teague, but the men definitely shared major facial similarities.

And why did it always go back to the risen dead?

"Can I help you?" she asked, when he didn't say any more.

His smirk faded to a professional stare. "My name is Agent Bloom. I was wondering if I could as you a few questions about the missing body from Smallville Medical." As he spoke, he pulled out a badge, held it in front of her face long enough for her to realize it looked legitimate, and then tucked it back in his coat.

Impersonating a federal agent. According to his file, that was a favorite pastime of his. She just didn't understand why he had chosen _her_ door to practice his hobby. Uncertainty settled heavily over her as she nodded. "Sure," she agreed, even when part of her wanted to close the door and call the real authorities. "I don't know any more than what I read in the paper, though."

"Oh?" Dean muttered, sounding doubtful. "The hospital seemed to think you'd be able to help with this case."

"And how's that?" she asked, not having to fake the surprise on her face. She had spent enough years keeping secrets and telling bold-faced lies to know the components of an unbeatable poker face. In that moment, though, there was no lack of genuine feelings in her tone and expression.

Dean Winchester, the alleged criminal, was at her door, impersonating a federal agent and asking about her escape from the hospital morgue. He'd researched her missing corpse. He'd sought her out to ask her questions.

Surprised was a bit of an understatement.

"Well ma'am," he started, his tone gaining a level of sincerity she would have thought was real if not for the fact that he was still pretending to be Agent Bloom. "The hospital didn't actually tell me to talk to you. I came to that decision on my own, after they told me whose body it was that had disappeared."

Chloe carefully schooled her features. She should have known there would be repercussions from escaping from the Smallville morgue. Deleting all proof that she had ever been at the hospital didn't erase the memory of her existence. The hospital staff wasn't likely to forget covering her body with a sheet and sticking it in a cooler—even if the hard copy evidence for that had vanished.

Though, she never would have guessed it would be Dean Winchester who'd confront her with that one weakness in her morgue-escape.

"Whose body was it?" she asked, because there was nothing else to do. She wasn't about to confess to an alleged criminal.

"Yours."

"What?" Chloe looked down at herself then up at him, as if to prove to them both that his information had been incorrect. "I think you got your information from a bad source. I've been hurt pretty bad before, but never enough that the hospital could mistake me for a dead patient."

She pursed her lips in disbelief, letting her uncertainty for the whole situation settle on her features. "Do I look dead?" she asked, without any hint of sarcasm.

He started to shake his head, but paused and reached for his pocket. "Excuse me," he apologized, pulling out his cell phone. As he read the screen, his face darkened in annoyance and he mumbled something that sounded surprisingly foreign. He tucked his phone back in his pocket and gave her an apologetic nod. "I guess I just had to see for myself that you were alive. Can't be too careful about these things," he said in a tone that was surprisingly ominous. "Thank you for your time, Ms. Sullivan."

At her parting nod, he turned and walked away, leaving her to stare after him in confusion.

As a rule, her life was weird. But sometimes, she wouldn't mind a degree of normalcy.

_What was_ that _about?_

_

* * *

_

Sometimes cases came with easy explanations—even if they weren't easy to finish. Most times, though, cases were a mystery up until the monster reared its unexpected head.

Dean had a feeling he wouldn't like the explanation for their current case, whenever they figured out what it was.

He walked inside the motel room, tossed his coat in the direction of his bed, and started recapping before it landed. "She's not a shapeshifter—there was not eye-flare on my camera phone. She didn't so much as twitch at _Christo_. And she's not a zombie. I could just tell." He counted off his ideas as he spoke. Then shot his bother a look, when his ideas ran dry. "You got any clues?"

Sam looked up from his laptop, but didn't look him in the eye. "Crossroads deal," he said matter-of-factly.

Dean cursed. He'd been right. He _didn't_ like the explanation. "Okay," he agreed stiffly. "But who would make the deal?"

Sam finally met his gaze. "Her cousin—"

"—Lois," Dean finished with him. The woman who had brought Chloe into the hospital, desperate and hurting. The woman who likely would do anything to save her younger cousin.

And didn't Dean know exactly how that felt.

"Case solved then, huh?" he asked, regretting ever taking the job. It was the last missing corpse they were going to be handling for a while, if he had anything to say about it. He didn't need his job reminding him of his looming deadline anymore than he needed Sam giving him those sad glances whenever he thought Dean wasn't looking.

Sam shook his head, his expression anything but sad just then. "No. We have to make sure."

"And when we confirm?" Dean asked, though he could have guessed at the answer.

"We'll try to save her."

Dean crossed his arms, giving his brother an irritated frown. "She made her choice, Sam."

"So? That means we can't try to save her?" Sam demanded. "It's _Hell_ she's headed for, Dean. Somehow, I doubt Chloe would agree that her life is worth her cousin's eternal damnation."

_My life isn't worth_ your _damnation._ Dean was fluent in the art of Sam's subtext.

"It wasn't Chloe's decision to make," he said, because he was just as good at subtext as his brother was.

Sam's gaze was a mix of anger and sadness, and he was the only one Dean knew who could merge the two emotions so seamlessly. "No, it'll just be hers to live with."

_But at least you'll live._ Dean swallowed his response, moving to pick his coat back up, instead. "Let's go talk to Lois."

* * *

It seemed the Sullivan-Lane cousins were hardly home—which meant the Winchester brothers were forced to spend too much time sitting outside their apartment building, waiting for them to arrive.

At the third sigh, Dean turned to Sam, cocking an eyebrow in annoyance. "Dude, you're like a bored ten-year-old."

"And you're like a cranky three-year-old," Sam shot back, keeping his attention on the building in front of them.

Dean didn't bother commenting on the lameness of his brother's comeback. It would be too easy. "Why don't you go inside and see if you can figure out when Lois is coming back," he offered, instead.

Sam's grateful look was almost embarrassing, but he was out of the car, before Dean could say so. "I'll be back," he said then walked away, leaving Dean alone with his car.

He wasn't alone for long. Just as Sam's long frame disappeared inside the Talon, there was a knock on the passenger side window. Dean jumped and turned to find Chloe glaring in at him. He didn't bother leaning over to roll down the window, just stepped out of the car and looked at her expectantly over the hood.

"Was that your partner?" she asked, gesturing in the direction Sam had gone.

"Yes," Dean said, glad Sam had thought to bring his fake ID in with him. "We were—"

"Spying on me?" Chloe finished sharply. She moved closer as she spoke, walking around the car until she was standing in front of him.

He blinked in surprise at her tone. She'd developed a sharp edge after their first meeting—and he doubted it was going to make the case any easier.

She continued before he could come up with a good lie, and he was left to wait for her irritated words to stop. "I realize you think I miraculously rose from the dead, but I'm telling you: I was never dead. Whoever told you otherwise was seriously misinformed. I'm fine, and I'd appreciate it if you and your _partner_ would leave me alone."

"Actually," he argued, cutting in as her words slowed. "We aren't here for you."

Chloe crossed her arms. "Who are you here for?"

"Your cousin, Lois Lane."

Fear flashed across Chloe's features, leaving Dean to wonder just how in-the-dark she was about her cousin's deal. Sam had figured out Dean's deal within a day. Bringing someone back from the dead was a hard thing to cover up.

Maybe Chloe knew about Lois's deal. Maybe she was afraid Dean and Sam were there to break it. Maybe she was more okay with her cousin selling her soul than Sam had thought.

Somehow, Dean didn't think that was the case. But, that didn't explain the fear in her eyes.

"I know you aren't a real cop," Chloe stated, her features hardening again. "I did some digging and no one in the police department has ever heard of an Agent Bloom. So just stay away from my family, or I'll turn you in for impersonating an officer."

Dean didn't bother responding, just watched with a small frown as she turned and marched towards the Talon. He waited until she was across the street and moved inside the building, before shaking his head in disbelief. "I'm just trying to help," he mumbled.

* * *

"She doesn't _want_ our help, Sam. Now drop it."

With an irritated huff, Sam did as he was told, dropping the heavy book in his hands so it landed on the table top with a thump. "You didn't even let me question Lois. What if this _isn't_ a crossroads deal. What if it's something else?"

Dean's shrug was irritatingly nonchalant. There were times Sam really wanted to hit him. "Maybe the chick is just immortal. We've been in town for a few days now and no more stiffs have risen from their graves. Nothing sinister is going on in this town." He tapped that day's newspaper as he moved past its resting spot on the TV stand. "Smallville isn't even acting as weird as Bobby had warned. She made her opinion pretty clear, and I don't feel like sticking around where I'm not wanted."

"Since when?" Sam countered, knowing just how much of a kick his brother got out of staying somewhere just to irritate someone.

"Since now," Dean responded. "The case is closed. Either Lois made a deal and both women are willing to live with the consequences, or Chloe wasn't as dead as the medical team thought she was. Either way, I'm ready to put this town in the rearview mirror."

"Well, I'm not," Sam stated.

Dean gave him a belittling look. "What are you going to do, Sam? Convince Lois to save her soul by letting Chloe die? Good luck with that. Tell me how it goes."

"We got a crossroads demon to break a deal once before."

"That was stupid luck. The chances of it happening again are slim."

Sam stood from the table he'd been at, grabbing his jacket as he rose and jerking it on. "But there's still a chance. And as long as there is, I'm not going to let Lois die."

"Sam…" Dean started when his brother reached for the door knob.

Sam didn't turn around as he cut him off. "I'm not letting anyone die," he concluded then pulled open the door and walked out.

He didn't bother sticking around to see if Dean got the message.

* * *

They hadn't left town.

She had hoped her threat to Dean would have been enough. With the amount of trouble he'd had with the police, she'd expected him to leave that night instead of risk arrest.

A day later, she realized she'd been wrong.

Giving the taser in her purse one last look, Chloe knocked on the motel door in front of her and prayed. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice was listing everything that was wrong with confronting two men who were wanted by the FBI.

That voice wasn't as loud as the one that listed everything that could happen if she let those same men anywhere near her family.

She still hadn't figured out why they were in Smallville spying on her and Lois, but she was going to make sure they didn't stay any longer. The last thing she needed was them digging into her life and unearthing a few too many secrets.

Besides, if anything went wrong she had a super-powered alien a scream away.

The door opened, and she found herself face to chest with the man she had seen with Dean the day before. "Can I help you?" he asked, looking at her with the same soft eyes Clark had used on her for years.

"You and your brother can leave town," she responded, her tone simple and direct. She'd only found one picture—a fuzzy mug shot—of Samuel Winchester, but the surprised look in the man's eyes told her she'd guessed correctly.

Dean appeared next to his brother and frowned at her. Chloe knew she'd struck a nerve, if Dean's _I'm the good guy_ façade was wearing thin. "Don't worry, Ms. Sullivan. We were just leaving."

_Don't worry._ Right. "Good. And while you're on your way out of time, don't bother stopping by the Talon. My cousin won't be home," she looked pointedly at the younger Winchester as she spoke.

Dean followed her gaze, giving his brother a curious look. "We'll leave your cousin alone." The statement was almost a question, and Samuel nodded in annoyed agreement.

"I don't know why you're suddenly interested in my life, but it ends now. No more stalking my apartment and no more trying to track down my cousin. If you don't stop, I know an FBI agent who would appreciate a phone call from me."

Dean's earlier frown darkened with understanding. "We said we were leaving, Ms. Sullivan," he bit out, her name like a curse on his tongue.

"I just have to make sure, Mr. Winchester," she returned. "Last time I thought you'd left, your partner was back at my apartment, waiting for Lois to come home."

Dean's frown was turned on his brother. "Can't let it go, can you?" he muttered.

Samuel didn't respond verbally, but a conversation passed between them nonetheless, and Chloe was surprised by the emotions playing over the younger man's features. There was more to their interest in her and Lois than she'd first thought, but she still couldn't piece together a decent clue.

Nor, could she figure out why it was causing the sorrow in Samuel's eyes.

"I won't call," she bargained, before she could stop herself. "If you promise to leave town now, I won't call." It was a bargain that went against her moral code, but it was made with little hesitation. She wasn't a reporter who made a habit of letting criminals go free, but she _was_ a reporter who relied on hard and fast facts to drive her opinion.

And, so far, very little of what she'd learned about the Winchesters matched the two men she was standing in front of.

Dean shared another look with his brother, before returning his attention to her. "Believe it or not, we were trying to help."

"Fine," she responded, fighting her instinct to ask for more details. Help with what? Why? And how did any of that have to do with their long and creative criminal history? She swallowed her questions and finished what she'd come for.  
Curious or not. Her loved ones came first. And that meant she had to send the Winchesters out of town, before Lois found out about them and got herself into the kind of trouble she had a knack for finding.

"But if you don't stop trying to help," she started, "I'll go public with everything I know."

To Be Continued…


	3. Research Needed

_Before…_

"What about the two meteor showers?" Sam pressed, because he couldn't let his case disappear before he had a real chance to investigate it.

"What about them?"

No automatic denial, which meant there was still a chance. "According to some citizens, the meteor rocks have the ability to give humans special abilities."

"You mean like superpowers?"

It was Sam's turn to shrug. "I guess."

"Well I know supernatural, not comics. I don't know what to tell you about some magic, space rocks." Bobby handed Sam back the article on the missing corpse then gestured over his shoulder to where Dean was packing the Impala. "But if you can convince your brother to check it out, keep me posted."

* * *

"If you don't stop, I know an FBI agent who would appreciate a phone call from me."

Dean's earlier frown darkened with understanding. "We said we were leaving, Ms. Sullivan." He bit out her name like a curse.

* * *

Dean shared another look with his brother, before returning his attention to her. "Believe it or not, we were trying to help."

"Fine," she responded, fighting her instinct to ask for more details. Help with what? Why? And how did any of that have to do with their long and creative criminal history? She swallowed her questions and finished what she'd come for.

Curious or not. Her loved ones came first. And that meant she had to send the Winchesters out of town, before Lois found out about them and got herself into the kind of trouble she had a knack for finding.

"But if you don't stop trying to help," she started, "I'll go public with everything I know."

_

* * *

_

_Now…_

They were on the road for a solid day, driving like they were being chased. Sam didn't even want to begin to list of things that could be on their tail. The list was long and painful—and they'd just added an irritated reporter to it.

"Think she'll call the FBI?" he asked.

Dean kept his frown focused on the dark road in front of him. "Who knows," he grumbled. "But if she does, I'm blaming you."

"Me?"

"Yeah you. You're the one who wouldn't let this case go. If we'd left when I wanted, we never would have been in this mess." Dean shot him a quick glare before returning to the road. "Why couldn't you just let it go?"

It was a pointless question. Dean knew the answer. Sam _knew_ Dean knew the answer. But if he wanted it repeated: "Because I'm not as quick to condemn someone to Hell as you are."

"We aren't _condemning_ anyone to Hell," Dean shot back. "We're letting one woman handle her own destiny. If she wants to make a deal for her cousin that's her own problem. Not ours."

_And if your brother makes the same deal?_ Sam didn't bother responding. He knew Dean's response. Repeating old arguments wasn't going to get them anywhere, and it certainly wasn't going to save his brother from Hell.

"Stop in the next town," he instructed, instead. "I think we've driven far enough."

Dean looked ready to argue, his face tense as he prepared his next point of irritation. After a beat, though, he huffed and nodded. "Okay."

"Okay."

* * *

After her final threat, the Winchesters had left town, taking the mystery of their presence with them. She still couldn't figure out why they'd been in town investigating her resurrection, but she was just going to have to be grateful they were gone. Even if she didn't completely believe all that their police reports suggested, she still had to assume they were dangerous.

There had to be a reason they were wanted by the FBI.

As long as they didn't show back up in her life, she could move on. It wasn't as if she didn't have plenty to focus her attention on—and that wasn't including her newly surfaced meteor powers.

With an irritated huff at her wandering thoughts, she brought her attention back to the newspaper in her hand, blocking out any thoughts of Winchesters or meteor powers as she read and made her way back to her _Daily Planet_ desk.

_Three of Seven Missing Persons Found._

Missing persons articles were all too common, but the one she'd found in _Oak Park Journal_ promised to offer clues to the mystery she'd been trying to dissect for almost a week—a mystery that had nothing to do with Dean Winchester and his possible meteor powers.

_…Three previously missing residents of Oak Park were found yesterday, just outside Lincoln, Nebraska…_ She reread the sentence, trying to picture the distance between Oak Park, Illinois and Lincoln, Nebraska. The article didn't offer an explanation as to why the three residents had been found so far from home, leaving Chloe to fill in the blanks.

Luckily, she had a theory, and it revolved around the mysterious clouds.

Less than a day after she'd woken up in the morgue, reports of strange, dark clouds over seventeen cities across the country (including Oak Park) had cropped up in various newspapers. Chloe's attention had been pretty focused on her new power, but the numerous reports had peaked her reporter interest—or, more specifically, they had peaked her friend-to-an-alien interest.

Meteorologists had ignored the clouds as nothing more than a fluke, but Chloe was worried there was more to the dark clouds than a threat of bad weather. The whole situation looked too much like the Zoner arrival from the year before.

With the recent disappearances (and reappearances), her theory had more validity. Dark clouds were a possible story. Seven missing persons was news worthy. When they happened in the same town, they became the kind of story Chloe preferred: strange and unexplained.

The newspaper and its online counterpart were full of theories, but they mostly involved a belief that one or more of the three "found" persons had murdered the still-missing citizens. The police weren't so sure.

And, neither was Chloe. It was never that easy.

"Hey Chlo'. Chloe?" Jimmy's voice pulled her from her internal musings.

She turned and smiled at him, trying to make the small stack of papers in her hand seem unimportant. Lately, he'd become increasingly more interested in the weirdness that was Smallville, and she had a feeling he'd jump on the story in her hand if he got the chance.

It wasn't that she didn't appreciate his new belief that the world wasn't as normal as Joe-citizen believed—she _did_—but some things were better if kept off his radar. And those _things_ were stories that involved potential extraterrestrial attacks. The last thing she (or Clark) needed was him looking into the local alien life.

"Hi Jimmy." She leaned over as he approached and gave him a peck on the mouth. "What's up?"

"Nothing special. I was just wondering if you'd like to get some lunch with me. My treat." He smiled as he spoke, and Chloe felt her own smile grow. New interest in the unusual or not, Jimmy was still Jimmy. Earnest, heartfelt Jimmy.

Chloe nodded, moving the two steps back to her desk to grab her bag. She stuffed the newspaper article inside, slung the bag over her arm, and then slipped her free arm through his. "Let's go."

* * *

Dean wanted him to drop the research and focus on something else. Something useful, like a new hunt or a way to stop the demon war they seemed on the brink of. Luckily, with Dean distracted at Lisa Braeden's house, Sam could do exactly the opposite of what his brother wanted.

And that meant researching a way out of Dean's deal _and_ looking up more information on the reporter they'd left in Smallville. He had no real proof yet, but a small—likely naïve—part of him believed if he solved the mystery of Chloe's resurrection he would have a clue for stopping Dean's deal.

His first instinct had been to file Chloe's resurrection under a crossroads deal. It wasn't hard to believe that Lois would be willing to sell her soul to save Chloe's life. Family would do anything to keep each other safe.

The more he researched Chloe, her cousin, and Smallville in general, the more Sam began to think there was something more to the case. Bobby, it seemed, had been right about Smallville: it was a strange town full of stories that appeared supernatural on the surface, but were nothing more than a citizen gone mental.

And Chloe was right in the middle of the chaos.

If a crossroads deal hadn't brought her back to life, maybe the reason didn't lie in the supernatural, but in the strangeness that was Smallville. Maybe Chloe's resurrection fit in with the stories she herself had written on the powerful meteor rocks. Maybe whatever had brought her back to life could save Dean.

_If you don't stop trying to help, I'll go public with everything I know._

But before he could test his theory, he would have to find a way to get past Chloe's threat of exposure. He and his brother were good at staying off the radar, when they needed to. The more Sam researched, though, the more he started to realize just how good Chloe was at finding those who were off the radar.

Not many people could boast exposing a teacher's criminal past, surviving their safe house exploding, and being the key witness in a trial that sent a powerful billionaire to prison—all before graduating high school.

It was an impressive record—one Sam knew he shouldn't go poking at—but his brother was going to Hell in less than a year.

Risking prison was worth it if it meant saving Dean.

And maybe, it would turn out okay. Maybe Chloe held the key to saving Dean.

…Maybe Sam really was naïve.

* * *

"And these clouds were spotted over seventeen cities?" Clark asked, taking the folder of information from Chloe.

They walked as they talked, heading towards the _Daily Planet_ entrance. Chloe was—_thankfully_—done for the day. She loved her job, but her new editor, Grant Gabriel, left a lot to be desired. One of them wasn't going to make it out of their partnership in one piece.

"Yeah. Two weeks ago, these clouds were spotted in the skyline, but no one noticed anything after that." She paused as Clark read over the information she'd collected. The folder in his hands contained all the articles on the dark clouds that she'd been able to recover, including the article from _Oak Park Journal_ on the missing citizens.

Aside from the one article, the _Journal_ hadn't reported any more on the missing persons. After calling in a few favors and throwing the name _Daily Planet_ around, though, she'd managed to dig up more information—specifically the contact information of one of the three returned citizens.

The woman, Katy, hadn't been too eager to talk, but that had rarely deterred Chloe.

"_You want answers? Why don't you try finding those four people who were at the house with us? They're the ones with the answers._ I'm_ the one who doesn't remember anything beyond waking up in that strange house._

Theoretically, _those four people_ could have been the four still-missing citizens. In fact, it had been one of the theories tossed out by locals in Oak Park. Chloe knew it wasn't that simple, though—especially not when the four people described didn't match the missing citizens. The four people Katy was talking about were strangers. Strangers who had apparently saved her life…at least from what she could remember and piece together.

_They saved my life. I don't know how or why or even from what, but I know I wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for them._

An African American woman, an older man, and two younger men. The woman had been quiet. The older man had been reassuring. And the younger men had been somber—_they just kept watching me with pity. It was unnerving. I mean, they were __**handsome**__ in that tall, dark, and packing heat kind of way, but still…unnerving._

_Something big happened in that house. Something big and scary…but I didn't ask questions. I don't think I want to know. …They didn't give us any names, just pointed us in the direction of a phone and disappeared._

At any other time, the mention of two somber looking men would have brought a generic picture to mind. Three days after the Winchesters and their compassionate gazes left town, _they_ were the image Chloe came up with. Not that she really believed it was them.

It was just a thought. Nothing more—

"So," Clark started, cutting off her musings. "Why are you showing me this?"

They'd reached the _Planet_ entrance, and she turned to face him. "Because, I'm pretty sure this is more than just a case of bad weather. I think it might be your kinda gig," she explained, giving her friend a loaded look.

Clark looked back down at the folder in his hands then shook his head, meeting her gaze. "You mean another Zoner invasion?"

"Or something. It's not like we have access to a full list of extraterrestrial events."

"No, we don't," Clark agreed. "But, this doesn't have anything to do with the Zoners. Bizarro was the last one. And I don't think it's anything extraterrestrial at all. With John Jones, and now Kara, we'd know if there was something out there."

Chloe nodded, though she didn't like the conclusion. If it wasn't extraterrestrial then what was it?

"Maybe it's just a fluke?" Clark suggested, unknowingly reading her thoughts.

"Clark," she said critically. "When has it ever just been a fluke?"

Clark looked thoughtful. "Good point."

She nodded then turned and continued out the doors. "On a slightly related note, I got that paperwork on Kara." She pulled out more information from her bag and offered to Clark. He exchanged the Oak Park folder for the file on his cousin. "Kara Kent is officially an American citizen."

Clark smiled appreciatively as he scanned the fake identifications for his Kryptonian cousin. "This looks great. Thanks."

"It's a skill," she joked with a wave of her hand.

Her friend chuckled. "One I'm glad you use for good."

And just like that, her thoughts were back on the Winchesters—namely the man who seemed to share one of her _skills_. Dean came back to life and impersonated officers to get information. Chloe came back from the dead and created fake identities for aliens.

She may be using her powers for good, but what was Dean using his for?

* * *

By the time he'd stitched, bandaged, and pilled his brother, Dean was ready to strangle something. Sam had been _shot_ by a woman who was more interested in material wealth than someone's life. If he ever saw Bela again, he wasn't going to be held responsible for his actions.

"You're seething too loudly," Sam muttered from his place sprawled on his bed.

Dean looked up with a frown. He'd thought Sam had been sleeping, his recent bout of bad luck exhausting his normally nocturnal little brother. "Shut up and go back to sleep, Jinx."

"You shut up," was the eloquent response from his college educated sibling.

Dean stretched a leg across the space between their beds and nudged Sam's mattress, just enough to earn an indignant grunt. Satisfied, Dean pulled his leg back onto his own bed and turned his attention to other pressing matters.

Like plotting harm to anyone else who thought it was okay to shoot his brother.

* * *

Sam could take care of himself, but Dean wasn't dead yet. And he was still the big brother.

"This is Chloe Sullivan with the _Daily Planet_. I was wondering if I could speak to Detective Diana Ballard?"

"One moment."

Chloe tapped her pen as she waited for the call to transfer. It had been a week since she'd discovered the article on the Oak Park missing citizens, and her desk showed signs of constant research. Articles, post-it notes, and an assortment of scribbled statements had been piled on her desk. Somewhere between investigating the Oak Park residents and looking for an explanation on the mysterious dark clouds, her research had taken a turn towards the Winchester brothers.

Logic told her they had nothing to do with either case. Wall-of-Weird instinct told her they had the answers she was looking for.

Either way, they were her new research subject, and she wasn't interested in dropping the case until she had an answer.

Using weak leads and even weaker connections, she'd eventually collected enough names and phone numbers to collect a stack of information on the Winchesters. The list of those with a connection to them was short, but it seemed to be split in two.

On one side, there were a number of statements that the brothers were trouble. The Winchesters were connected to murders in St. Louis, an armed robbery in Milwaukee, and had escaped from police custody—even prison—on more than one occasion.

Her original contact, Agent Hendrickson, had been the first to list all of the Winchesters' wrongdoings. Unlike most lawmen, Hendrickson had been more than happy to talk to the press. He wanted the brothers' names in the public eye, believing that the more people knew about them, the smaller their chances of hiding would remain—_"Those two are professionals. Taking them down is going to be hard, but we'll get 'em."_

At no time during their phone conversation had Chloe mentioned the brother's visit to Smallville. The agent had spent the entire interview warning her of the dangers that were the Winchesters and she'd kept her mouth shut.

It wasn't like it was the first time she'd broken the law—

"This is Detective Ballard."

Chloe grabbed a notepad, tucked the phone in between her shoulder and ear, and forgot about what she had or hadn't told Hendrickson. She had an interview to conduct. Phone interviews never held the same amount of excitement as those conducted in-person, but an interview was an interview.

"Hi detective. Thank you for taking my call. I was hoping to ask you a few questions about two brothers you had in your custody a while back."

"Do you mean the Winchester brothers?" Ballard didn't seem all that surprised by the question. Chloe could just imagine how many questions the woman had already answered about the two men who'd escaped her custody.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm writing a piece on their criminal history, and I know that they were in your custody for some time before escaping." Chloe poised her pen anticipating Ballard's next words.

"Yes, they were—" Ballard paused as someone in the background began talking. "Miss Sullivan, I'm afraid I have to run." Chloe pursed her lips. It wasn't the first interview she'd had cut short thanks to a well-timed "interruption."

"But I want you to know that the Winchesters are good men," Ballard continued, unaware of Chloe's annoyance. "I can't begin to know anything about their involvement in Milwaukee, but I'd bet my career they were there to help not harm. Those boys saved my life and helped me stop my murderous partner."

Chloe raised an eyebrow as she wrote, silently reminding herself to place Ballard's statements on the stack opposite from Hendrickson's. "But they escaped custody."

Ballard sighed, and Chloe found herself wishing she could see her eyes. "Yes. I messed up keeping an eye on them. But you don't stay off the grid as well as they do without knowing how to vanish from custody—Look, I really have to go. If you have any more questions feel free to call me again later, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you for your time." Chloe waited for Ballard to hang up before doing the same. She pulled Ballard's statement off her notepad and set it in the growing stack of positive statements.

For deadly criminals, the brothers sure had fans.

And those fans were doing a better job at convincing her than Hendrickson and his warnings had managed. The Winchesters had a criminal record, but they also had a list a supporters—supporters who ranged from everyday citizens to detectives like Diana Ballard.

She could keep interviewing and writing down statements. She could keep adding to the two piles in front of her—the human created pro-con list on the Winchesters.

Or she could go to the source.

Long-shot or not, Sam and Dean were her only real lead she had on the dark clouds and missing persons. It was a story that was quickly becoming more trouble than it was probably worth, but it was a story she didn't feel right giving up on.

She sighed as she turned her attention to tracking down the two men she'd only recently run out of town.

"I just hope this is worth it."

* * *

After Lisa Braeden, Bela Talbot, changelings, and a cursed rabbit foot, Dean was ready for a new case. He should have known his brother would still be interested in old news.

He was just glad Sam's newest obsession wasn't his deal—even if it _was_ the woman who'd threatened to turn them into the authorities. "Lionel Luthor?" Dean repeated, after his brother finished explaining everything he'd found on Chloe.

Sam nodded, leaning forward in his seat as he spoke. The diner around them was busy, full of background chatter that effectively masked their conversation. "Yeah, apparently Chloe found out Lionel had had his parents murdered. She actually got him to confess to it."

Dean was skeptical. "He confessed? A powerful man like Lionel Luthor confessed to a chick in high school?"

"Apparently." Sam shrugged, gesturing to the article on Luthor's conviction. "I don't know how she did it, but she did."

"But that was almost four years ago. Lionel's out of prison, and Chloe's still alive." Dean pointed to Sam with his loaded fork, a theory forming. "I bet they were working together somehow."

"What?" Sam pushed the fork from his face. "No way."

"No, sure. Think about it," Dean insisted. He brought the fork to his mouth then used the empty utensil to point at the article on the explosion at Chloe's safe house. "He almost killed her while he was _in_ prison. What makes him stop his attempts on her life once he got out?"

"Maybe he just grew a conscience," Sam offered.

Dean cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah right." He paused thoughtfully, glancing over the articles in front of him again. At best, most of the stories looked like ones that belonged in Weekly World News—if not written better. The fact that all the stories were probably _true_ was the unnerving part. "She's good," he muttered finally.

An investigative reporter was one thing. An investigative reporter with experience in the strange and unexplained was another. One had significantly more challenges than the other.

Sam's cell phone rang, before he could respond. He pulled it out of his pocket and answered, watching Dean as he did. "Hello?"

Dean watched his brother's eyebrows rise as the person on the other end started talking. He made an impatient gesture, expecting Sam to give him some hint of topic. Eyebrows still up, Sam pushed the stack of articles on their table towards Dean and pointed.

_By Chloe Sullivan_

Chloe was on the other end. The reporter had found them.

Dean braced himself as Sam pulled the phone away from his ear and set it on the table. He hadn't said a word during the brief phone call. Chloe had controlled the conversation and left Sam to keep up. That, in itself, was unnerving.

"What did she want?" Dean demanded.

"She wants us to go back to Smallville. She needs to talk to us about what happened in Lincoln, Nebraska."

Dean blinked. "How does she know we were there?"

"She doesn't," Sam said firmly, but there was a crack in his mask.

"You mean you _hope_ she doesn't," Dean translated.

Sam shot him a look. "You better hope she doesn't either. The last thing your record needs is another connection to a crime."

"Okay fine, but I've got a more pressing question."

"Shoot."

Dean nudged his brother's cell phone across the table. "How the hell did she get your number?"

To Be Continued…


	4. Second Impressions

_Before…_

Long-shot or not, Sam and Dean were her only real lead she had on the dark clouds and missing persons. It was a story that was quickly becoming more trouble than it was probably worth, but it was a story she didn't feel right giving up on.

She sighed as she turned her attention to tracking down the two men she'd only recently run out of town.

"I just hope this is worth it."

* * *

Dean braced himself as Sam pulled the phone away from his ear and set it on the table. He hadn't said a word during the brief phone call. Chloe had controlled the conversation and left Sam to keep up. That, in itself, was troublesome.

"What did she want?" Dean demanded.

"She wants us to go back to Smallville. She needs to talk to us about what happened in Lincoln, Nebraska."

Dean blinked. "How does she know we were there?"

"She doesn't," Sam said firmly, but there was a crack in his mask.

"You mean you hope she doesn't," Dean translated.

Sam shot him a look. "You better hope she doesn't either. The last thing your record needs is another connection to a crime."

"Okay fine, but I've got a more pressing question."

"Shoot."

Dean nudged his brother's cell phone across the table. "How the hell did she get your number?"

_

* * *

Now…_

Unless she was meeting a friend, Chloe preferred to spend her nights in the apartment above the Talon, instead of on the ground floor among the next generation's caffeine addicts. Sitting back and observing the coffee-drinkers of Smallville High had lost its appeal after she'd stopped being a member of that particular group.

Yet, for the last few nights, she'd tucked herself into a corner, wrapped her hands around a warm mug, and waited. Sam Winchester hadn't exactly agreed to her request for him and his brother to return to Smallville. She was just hoping their curiosity would get the better of them.

For the life of her, she couldn't figure out why she'd requested a face-to-face with the same men she'd threatened the FBI on just to get them out of her town. A phone call would have been enough—had always been enough.

It didn't make sense. But then, nothing about the story she was working on made sense.

And so, she was stuck. Waiting—

For Dean Winchester to walk inside.

The man moved through the crowd with the ease of a regular and didn't glance her way once. Not until he was almost on top of her table. There was no surprise in his gaze once their eyes locked. He blinked at her once, raised an eyebrow in a silent question, and then turned and ducked out of the back of the Talon.

Chloe was on her feet and at the back door before it could close completely.

"Dean!" she called, stepping outside and into the dark alley. "Dean?"

When he didn't respond, she grabbed her phone and dialed. For men with more aliases than official records, it had been surprisingly easy to track down their phone numbers. Then again, she'd learned early on that her definition of _easy_ didn't necessarily match Webster's.

The phone rang continuously, seemingly headed towards a voicemail as its owner ignored the call. "I hate hide and seek," she grumbled, studying the alley. She'd only been a few seconds behind him, but somehow Dean had managed to merge himself with one of the area's shadows.

She spun as a faint ringtone sounded behind her. Confirming her suspicions, Dean stepped from a deep shadow, expression unchanged from the one he'd directed at her in the Talon. She hung up, cutting the ringtone off and preparing for the question on his face to be voiced.

"I never like the game either," Dean said, hedging towards conversational, but not quite reaching. It reminded her of the description Victor Henriksen had given her. The brothers were hardened criminals, wanted for murder, grave-desecration, and a number of other morbid crimes. The man in front of her looked capable of at least a few morbid wrong-doings.

"We're here," he continued, ignoring her inner-conflict. "Just as requested." He stepped towards her with a self-assured smirk, and Chloe resisted the sudden urge to step back. "Let's talk."

She nodded mutely, wondering if _maybe_ she'd made a mistake.

* * *

Sam stood as Dean walked inside the motel room, Chloe trailing behind him with an expression that wavered between worry and intrigue. Gone was the determined woman who had told them on no uncertain terms that they were to leave town or face the consequences. In her place was a woman who wore journalistic curiosity like an old shirt, but still knew the dangers she was letting herself walk into.

He knew the reputation he and Dean had collected. The fact that Chloe hadn't taken one look at their record and called the police was remarkable—to have her then seek them out after was even more so. Whatever story she was working on, she was willing to use every resource to get answers, including wanted murderers.

Somehow, though, Sam had a feeling most of the worry on her face could be blamed on the man who was walking in front of her—his brother.

He shot Dean a pointed look, not surprised to see him respond with an innocent one. _I did nothing._

So much for his promise to be civil. Sam didn't really want to think about what Dean had said or done to Chloe before getting her to follow them to their motel room. Though, she _had_ followed so it couldn't have been too scarring.

"Hi Chloe." Sam gestured to a chair near the door. "Have a seat."

She looked down at the chair then shook her head. "No thanks. I think I'll stand."

Dean deliberately moved around Chloe, tossing his jacket on the nearest surface. "Suit yourself." He grabbed the chair, spun it in place, and straddled it. Sam was almost surprised when he didn't stick out his tongue at the end.

To her credit, Chloe took in the display without comment or much facial expression. She simply took a step back and leaned against the wall, matching Dean in forced confidence.

"So." Sam looked between the two as he returned to his seat. "You wanted to talk about Lincoln?" he prompted, when no one spoke.

All three of them were on edge, but the tension coming off of Chloe and Dean was enough to make Sam long for the exit. It had probably been a mistake returning to Smallville. And the sooner they got the initial conversation out of the way, the sooner they could figure out just how big that mistake was.

Without a glance at the other, Chloe and Dean crossed their arms in tandem. A response that managed to heighten Dean's uneasy posture, yet, appeared to give Chloe more confidence. Her expression shifted to one Sam recognized from their last meeting. She was back in control and ready to make demands—or conduct an interview.

It was the look of a hardnosed-reporter, and it wasn't the first time Sam had witnessed it. Only, the last time had been on the face of his brother's ex-girlfriend.

If Chloe was anything like Cassie Robinson, they were trouble.

"A month ago, seven residents from Oak Park, Illinois went missing without a trace," Chloe started, not shifting from her stiff, arm-crossed stance. "Then a little over a week later, three of those residents turned up in Lincoln, Nebraska with no memory of how they got there."

Neither brother spoke, waiting for her to continue to her point. They knew the details. They just didn't know why she knew, or cared—or thought it involved them.

"Now, it could have easily been an odd case of amnesia tied with a traumatic kidnapping gone wrong. _But_—" her arms unfolded and she dug inside the bag at her hip, producing a small stack of papers. "I think it's more than that. I think this case of missing persons is somehow connected to the mysterious cloud cover, witnessed over seventeen cities, on the same night the Oak Park residents were reported as missing."

She split the stack in half and handed them to the brothers, before delivering her conclusion. "And, I think you two know all of this already."

Sam didn't bother skimming the papers, choosing instead to study the woman who'd just accurately guessed at their involvement in Lincoln, Nebraska. As far as conclusions went, that was one he never would have thought she'd piece together. Their names were on so many other cases—St. Louis, Milwaukee, the prison in Little Rock—yet she'd tied them to Lincoln.

There was something unnerving about the way Chloe's mind worked.

"Dark clouds and missing citizens," Dean repeated, tone heavy with disbelief. He offered Sam a can-you-believe-this-chick frown. "Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but weather patterns and state-hopping citizens don't exactly peak our interest." He glanced down at a newspaper clipping then back at her face. "Especially when we're across the country at the time." He held out the clipping for Sam, pointing to the date.

"May eighth, we were in…Phoenix?" he asked.

Sam shook his head, taking his cue. "Peoria, in that motel room with the broken a/c," he reminded, grimacing a little at the fake memory. Lies held more validity when they came with personal details. Peoria was a flimsy answer. Peoria with a stuffy motel room was part of an anecdote.

"Peoria." Chloe nodded, looking convinced for almost a full second before pinning Dean with a knowing frown. "Do you know how easy it is to trace a credit card's history?"

Dean shrugged. "No clue, but CSI makes it look about as easy as using Google."

She pulled the stack of papers from Sam's hand and flipped through a few pages then offered Dean the result. "Not quite that simple, but simple enough. And it doesn't matter if those cards are forged the history shows up just like any other card."

"Your point?" Dean asked, ignoring the papers under his nose.

"My point: The day you and Sam showed up in Smallville, Kellan Ruiz bought a room at the Smallville Inn, a week after he bought a room in a small town just outside Lincoln." Chloe dropped the papers on Dean's lap, and Sam did his best to school his features. Kellan Ruiz was Dean's latest credit card scam.

"And, your picture matched the description both motel clerks gave of Kellan." Chloe finished without so much as a satisfied smile. She suddenly looked anxious, her words proving Sam's estimation of her investigative skills. She wasn't just taking a chance and placing them in Lincoln through some flimsy clue. She'd researched. She had more damning proof.

And she hadn't gone to the police with it.

"I think you know what those dark clouds were, and I think you know how they are connected to the missing citizens," she added.

"What do we look like? Weathermen?" Dean asked, his tone not as disbelieving as it had been. He knew the same thing Sam did. Chloe was setting them at the scene of a potential crime, but she wasn't throwing out accusations.

She was asking for answers.

"No, but you do match the description one of the missing persons gave me."

"Ruggedly handsome?" Dean joked.

"Tall, dark, and packing heat," she corrected, with a cocked eyebrow.

"Who says we're packin'?"

Chloe's other eyebrow joined the first. "You're going to tell me you're not?"

"We can't tell you anything, because we don't know anything," Sam said, steering the conversation away from the current topic and the pistols the two of them had tucked into their waistbands.

Chloe gave Sam a watered down version of the look she'd aimed towards Dean. "Then what were you doing in Lincoln."

"Visiting family," Dean threw out, irritation no longer a subtle part of his tone. "What does it matter to you?"

Matching Dean's frown, Chloe stepped away from the wall, grabbed a chair, and sat down so she was eye-level with them. "It matters to me because cloud patterns like that don't just spring up naturally. And people don't just go missing from one town only to be found in another with no memory. And those two events _don't_ just happen in the same town without it meaning something. Something big."

She actually looked worried. "Something dangerous."

"Look," she continued before either of them could answer. "I just want some explanations. The last time something like this happened a lot of people died. I'm not willing to risk that again."

Sam didn't have to fake the confusion in his voice. "The last time?"

"Just…" Chloe shook her head, brushing off his question. "Just think about it, okay? You two are the only leads I have. I'm not expecting you to trust me. I'm just asking for help."

She stood as she spoke, taking a step backwards towards the door. She wasn't going to push for answers, she was going to let them do as she'd suggested—_think about it_. "And," she added as her hand wrapped around the doorknob. "I promise not to call the FBI."

"I thought we were dangerous criminals," Dean pointed out.

Chloe shrugged. "It's surprising the stories you hear when you dig a little deeper." And with that vague response, she slipped out the door, leaving them alone.

Dean waited until they heard her car pull away then pointed at the door and shook his head. "No way."

Sam didn't respond. _The last time something like this happened a lot of people died. I'm not willing to risk that again._ Maybe it had been a mistake to return to Smallville. _I'm not expecting you to trust me. I'm just asking for help._ But the mystery of Chloe Sullivan kept growing with every meeting, and Sam was curious enough to want to solve it.

He just had to convince his brother.

* * *

"I said no, Sam." Dean punctuated his statement by stuffing a pile of jeans into his duffel bag. Chloe had barely pulled out of the parking lot and he was already packing. He didn't need to stick around and let her change her mind about calling the FBI.

Promise or not, he wasn't sure he could trust her—wanted to trust her. After Ruby and Bela, and even Tamara, Dean had had his share of untrustworthy women.

"Why not, Dean?"

"You know why. She knows too much. She's practically got the FBI on speed-dial."

"She said she wouldn't call—"

"Yeah, not until she's got more dirt on us."

Sam sighed, sitting back down in the chair he'd just vacated. "I don't think so."

"Oh and suddenly you can read minds?" Dean finished packing and yanked the zipper on his duffel closed. "We never should have come here, Sam. You said it yourself, the last thing our records need is another black mark. And I think Lincoln counts as a black mark."

Dean still couldn't pinpoint an exact reason for their return to Smallville. He was willing to blame the whole thing on Sam, though. Sam and his need for answers.

"If we don't help her, she's going to go after this story on her own, and she has no idea what she's dealing with." Sam leaned forward in his seat, eyeing his brother. "She's going to get herself killed."

"So?" Dean snapped, only to have his irritation die at the idea. Sam was right. Chloe looked stubborn enough to go after the story with or without their help. And he doubted she knew the first thing about demons.

He looked at his brother, wishing Sam wasn't so logical. Things would be easier that way. His disinterest in Chloe's fate could go unchecked. "Fine, but you get to tell her the good news."

* * *

The knock on the door came sooner than Chloe had expected. In fact, part of her had expected the Winchesters to high-tail it out of town the moment she'd left their motel. They didn't trust easy—that much was obvious—and her story was a little hard to believe.

"Come in," she called, her attention on the stacks of papers strewn across her kitchen counter. When she went after a story, she looked for as many explanations as possible—and that meant a lot of paperwork.

"They weren't just clouds."

Chloe looked up at Sam's voice. Somehow, she'd assumed it would be Dean at her door—again. It was almost a relief to be faced with the other Winchester. The one who looked willing to give her a chance.

"I kinda figured," she said easily. "Do you know what they were?"

Sam leaned against the opposite side of the counter, studying her. "What were they last time this happened?"

She bit her lip, unsure if she was ready to open that line of conversation. It hedged too close to secrets that weren't hers to share. But, the best way to get answers was to offer some in exchange. "Rogue aliens."

"Aliens?" Sam actually looked surprised. "There's no such thing."

She almost laughed. "Sam, you're in Smallville. Extraterrestrial phenomena are as regular as the farmer's market."

His responding _huh_ didn't sound too convinced, but he wasn't arguing. "Strange town," he muttered. "Those dark clouds weren't aliens. They were demons."

It was Chloe's turn for surprise. She blinked, letting the information sink in. Demons hadn't been on her list of possibilities. But then, as a rule, her list was usually loose and subject to change. "You mean like real, hell-raising, supernatural beings?"

Sam nodded. "And that's putting it lightly."

"So much for aliens being the worst-case scenario."

To her relief, Sam's mouth quirked slightly in amusement. For a moment, they were on level ground, and Chloe was looking at an ally instead of a threat. Before the moment could die, she collected her papers into a folder and stuffed the whole thing back into her bag, nodding towards the door. "Can we continue this conversation with Dean, or are you here without permission?"

"I have permission," he said wryly.

"Good. Let's go."

Sam was studying her again, uncertainty in his eyes as clearly as it had been during their first meeting. He was surprised by her—or by her reaction. He was expecting more disbelief.

She moved around the counter so she was standing in front of him, the need to explain herself a pressing thing. "After you left Smallville, did you look me up? Do research to find out how much of a threat I was?"

Sam didn't bother with denial. "Yes."

"And what did you find out?"

He actually smiled. "That your life is weird."

"You don't know the half of it," she agreed then patted her bag, making the papers inside rustle. "Demons may not have been my first guess, but they're not that unexpected. Especially not after what I found out about you and your brother."

Sam shifted. "What did you find out?"

She returned his earlier smile. "That your life is weird."

"Understatement."

It was far from trust, but the look he gave her at least bordered on understanding, and that was enough for her.

When she led the way to the door, Sam followed.

* * *

Dean wasn't sure why Sam and Chloe had moved their info-session back to the motel room. It wasn't like he was contributing to the conversation. After Chloe had prompted them with the not-so-simple _why demons_, Sam had been the one to answer.

An opened-gate to Hell.

A demon army.

A looming war.

And a reporter who was remarkably calm about the whole thing.

"So, these demons are soldiers in waiting?" she asked. The way she asked her questions and waited for answers implied an experience with interviews, but the ease with which she took in the news implied a different kind of experience.

The kind Dean wasn't sure anyone had outside the hunting world.

"We killed their leader, but the demons are still a threat. They don't exactly sit calmly and wait for orders," Sam said.

"Hence the missing Oak Park residents?" Chloe guessed.

"Exactly."

Finally, there was a pause in the conversation. Chloe had run out of questions and Sam wasn't about to offer unsolicited information. Overall, he'd stuck with the basics, offering facts and keeping important details to himself. There were too many personal points tied in with the demon war—too many things Chloe didn't need to know about them.

It wasn't her fight. The only thing she needed to know was the level of danger and the necessity of her staying out of it.

"What can I do?" she asked finally.

So much for understanding the danger.

"Honestly? Stay out of the way," Sam said, his face hardening slightly into an expression Dean rarely saw him wear. His little brother was usually nothing but soft eyes and knowing looks when talking with civilians. "Seasoned hunters are being killed in this war. You'll be more of a distraction than an aid."

Dean winced even as he agreed with his brother's statement. Somehow, he didn't think Chloe would appreciate being benched—

"Okay." Chloe nodded, and Dean shook his head, wondering when he'd lost his ability to read people. "I won't fight, but that doesn't mean I can't help."

"Yes it does," Dean argued. "That's exactly what it means."

For the first time since their conversation had started, Chloe turned to study Dean. Her eyes were sharper than he'd expected, determination straightening her posture. "You're talking about an invasion. I'm not going to just sit back and ignore it because it's too dangerous."

"You're going to get yourself killed," Dean shot back.

Her mouth twitched. "Wouldn't be the first time."

And just like that the conversation was pulled from one touchy subject to another. No answers had been given for Chloe's resurrection, but no questions had been asked either. Chloe wasn't pressing them for personal information, and they were returning the favor.

"It's dangerous," Dean repeated.

Chloe nodded slowly, features darkening suddenly with worry. It had taken a moment, but their words had finally sunk in. She glanced down at the floor then back up at the brothers. "Do you think we can win this war?"

There was a long pause, and Dean remembered when Sam had asked a similar question to Bobby. The answer— or lack of one— hadn't been all that encouraging, but he had expected it. They were facing a demon war. The chances of humans coming out victorious were slim.

But, Chloe wasn't a hunter—she didn't know to expect the worst—and Dean wasn't about to be the one to tell her otherwise. He didn't need her worrying about something she had no control over.

He caught her gaze and held it. "Yes."

To Be Continued…


	5. Dialing Out

_Now…_

The _Daily Planet_ basement wasn't exactly ideal for essay writing—and her editor probably didn't appreciate her use of the company computers—but there were days when Chloe preferred the evening-calm of the basement to her apartment at the Talon.

The _Planet_ kept her grounded in a way she knew she'd never really be able to explain someone outside of journalism. It was her home away from home, and it was what she turned to when she didn't want to think about the stress that was her life.

And, there was nothing quite like a last-minute essay proofing to get her to forget about her stress. School, for all the stress it could hold, had become her escape. Sometimes, with all the stuff going on her personal and not-so-personal life she could forget she was still a Junior in college. But, when life—and homework—reminded her, took the distraction for the opportunity that it was.

Essays on the history of Irish Famine didn't require thoughts on alien best friends, meteor powers, demon wars, or photographer ex-boyfriends.

She saved and printed her essay, regretting the end of the work.

Unconsciously, her gaze flickered back over to her cell phone—the same cell phone she'd been contemplating all evening. It wasn't the first time she'd thought about calling Jimmy—and, unfortunately, it wouldn't be the last.

She wouldn't—_couldn't_—call him. He wanted answers that she wasn't ready to give. He wanted to know what she was holding back, and she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to answer him. Her meteor powers were a touchy subject, one only Clark was privy to.

And Clark was too busy wrapped up in his girlfriend to notice his best friend's distress.

So, Chloe relied on homework and research to keep her mind off her problems—even if some of that research was _for_ one or more of her problems. She'd never stopped looking for answers to her mutations, nor had she dropped the mystery that was the Winchester brothers. And with the recently discovered demon apocalypse, she had plenty to study and learn up on.

If she was lucky, the research yielded some results. If she was really lucky, it managed to keep her mind off her problems for a few hours.

She was a single, lonely, meteor freak, but life could be worse—they could be on the brink of a demon uprising.

…her humor was lacking when she was stressed.

Again, her gaze traveled to her phone, a new number in mind. This time, she picked up and dialed, uncertainty welling up once it started ringing.

Oblivious to her uncertainty, Sam picked up on the second ring. "Chloe?"

"Hey Sam." There. Her tone was almost neutral. "How are things?" …even if her conversational skills were lacking.

Sam didn't answer right away, either due to surprise at her sudden call or her mundane reason for doing so. It had been over three weeks since the Winchesters had left Smallville for the second time, and she hadn't been in contact with them since—hadn't had a need to be in contact with them since.

"Things are fine," he said finally. She heard movement and distant footsteps like he was walking as he spoke. "Dean and I are working on a case."

"A case?"

"We're hunting," he rephrased, using the term he'd explained during their last meeting. All those strange reports she'd received on the Winchesters hadn't been just the confessions of unhinged citizens. They'd been real. The Winchesters hunted the things in the dark.

"A demon?" she guessed.

"No. A spirit. We think."

"You think?" she repeated, interest peaked. "What's the case?"

"So far, two unusual murders. We thought the first was a werewolf attack," Sam explained and Chloe stored that tidbit of information for later—_werewolves were real_. "But the second one involved an old lady with a butcher knife." It should have been unnerving how casually Sam explained the murders, but Chloe knew better than to judge another's description of the dead.

After all, she was the girl who had once gotten thrilled at the idea of spontaneous combustion, instead of focusing on the life that had been ended.

"And you think the murders are connected somehow?" she asked, unable to keep her intrigue from her tone. Unsolved mysteries were as distracting as homework—and much more exciting.

"Maybe." She heard the swish of fabric as Sam either nodded or shrugged. "The survivor from the second attack said she saw a little girl watching from outside the window. When Dean and I investigated, we discovered the girl was a spirit. One who just stood outside the window and watched."

"A Peeping Tom spirit? Ever heard of such a thing?" Chloe's own knowledge of spirits was limited to the few meteor influenced ones she'd encountered—and been possessed by.

"Not that I remember. Usually spirits prefer to be involved in the action, attacking or possessing instead of standing on the sidelines," Sam explained. It was both oddly comforting to listen to Sam explain spirit behavior and slightly unnerving to know that he'd confronted a case that he couldn't solve.

Even with all his years of experience, there were some things out there that he hadn't faced. There was no telling what else was out there waiting to be discovered.

Without prompting, an idea formed as she replayed his words in her head. "Maybe the spirit is more involved than you think," she suggested, speaking before her thoughts were completely formed.

"How so?" Sam was curious, but there was a note of skepticism in his tone. He hadn't expected for an answer to come from her—and she had to admit she hadn't expected it either. Aliens and extraterrestrial infestations she knew, but spirits were still an uncertain topic for her.

Yet, that didn't mean she didn't know a few things. "Have you ever heard of a woman named Lilian Bailey?"

"I don't think so."

Chloe smiled as her earlier unease lessened. Her life was stressful, but for the moment she had some answers. She relayed all she knew about Lilian and supernatural trances, smiling as she spoke. It felt good to be useful.

Granted, her knowledge had only come as a result from research she'd done after her third possession, but it didn't negate its usefulness—even if she chose to keep the origin of her knowledge to herself. Maybe someday, she'd tell Sam about her possessions and how they'd triggered an interest in other connections between humans and spirits.

But not that day.

"And Dean thought I was an encyclopedia of weird," Sam joked, after she finished.

She frowned at his words, hearing something in his tone as he spoke Dean's name. Something that had her thinking she wasn't the only one with personal issues. "How _is_ Dean?" she mused. "Still cursing the day he ever came to Smallville?"

As far as openings went, it wasn't much, but if Sam needed an ear to vent to that was as close to an offering as she was going to give. Somehow, she didn't think he'd want anything more.

"He's fine," Sam answered easily. "His usual pain-in-the-ass self." The _something_ in his tone vanished, consciously or not, leaving her with a conversation that was more forced than friendly. Sam wasn't up to discussing or even confessing to his problems—which was fair since she wasn't any more willing to discuss her own.

"Good to hear," she mused. "I think."

"Mhmm." Sam shifted his phone before continuing. "Listen, I better get going. Dean's almost done in the library and I've gotta go meet him. I'll tell him about Lilian, though. I think you're on to something."

"Yeah?" Chloe pressed, surprisingly pleased by the slight praise.

"Yeah. Thank you."

"No problem. Glad to know my meager knowledge came in handy."

Sam chuckled slightly at her words, and something inside her relaxed. For the first time since he'd answered, the call felt comfortable—and they were coming to the end. Of course. "Take care, Chloe."

"You too Sam." But she couldn't end it there— "And Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Feel free to give me a call if you ever need help…with a case," she finished lamely, unable to commit fully to what she'd been offering. A sympathetic ear was something to give someone who needed and would accept it. Sam might have problems, but she didn't think he was one to go seeking help from the girl he barely knew—if he sought out any help.

"Okay. Thanks," Sam agreed tightly, the earlier comfort gone. "Bye."

She hung up after him then set her phone aside. As far as distractions went, it wasn't the best, but it had been something. Determined to make it last, she turned her attention back to her computer and its search engine. Sam hadn't given her much on their case, but it probably wouldn't take much to track down their location—not that she had any need to know where they were.

But if it kept her mind off of certain topics for a while longer, it was all she needed.

And maybe, she'd learn a little more about the Winchesters in the process.

* * *

Led Zeppelin streamed from the Impala's speakers as Sam and Dean drove from the hospital. The apple Dean had found in Cinderella's house rolled around the floor of the car, until Dean scooped it up and threw it outside with an annoyed huff.

Neither of them was feeling particularly pleased with the end of their last hunt. They may have stopped the spirit and its murders, but it had cost a good man his daughter. It wasn't one they could exactly place in the win column—_Is that what you want me to do, Dean? Just let you go?_

Sam watched his brother out of the corner of his eye, suddenly curious about what Dean would think of his conversation with Chloe. The conversation itself had been pretty straightforward, a discussion on the case and a few polite inquiries that allowed it to have an air of familiarity—even if it had been anything but familiar.

It was the fact that she had called him so out-of-the-blue that had puzzled him more. That, and her offer to help on future cases. He wasn't dense enough to know that her offer had been meant for more than just a case, but he wasn't going to think too much about that. He didn't need Chloe on speed-dial to discuss his problems.

The idea was all bad. It just wasn't…plausible.

And, if anyone needed someone to discuss their issues with, it was Dean. Sam had problems—_my brother sold his soul for me_—but Dean's own issues went deeper. He was the one headed for Hell in less than a year, and he was also the last one to talk about that fact.

Ever since the devil's gate in Wyoming, Dean had become more distant—a trait Sam knew he was guilty of too. But while all Sam seemed to be able to think and talk about was his brother's deadline, Dean only ever brought up his trip to Hell when he could use it as an excuse for his reckless behavior—or to guilt Sam into not pulling the same reckless stunts—_don't make my deal worthless, Sammy_.

Dean was terrified. The average person wouldn't know it by looking at him, but Sam was his brother. He knew it without even looking. He also knew it was going to take a lot to get Dean to confess to his fear.

After their dad's death, Dean had turned to Gordon for a sympathetic ear. While the choice in audience had been lacking, the fact that he had opened up to anyone at all gave Sam a little hope for a repeat performance. No amount of talking was going to keep Dean from his fate—unless it involved the crossroads demon and the Colt—but at least he'd stop acting like he didn't care. Because Sam knew he cared. A lot.

And, if that sympathetic ear turned out to be Chloe…well, at least there was less chance of her turning out to be just like Gordon.

Rolling his eyes at his own thoughts, Sam leaned his head against the cool glass on the window. It was wishful thinking to believe that Dean would open up to anyone—especially Chloe. She might have proven Dean wrong by not calling the FBI, but he wasn't ready to trust her. And, after all the recent problems they'd had with pseudo-allies, Sam couldn't really blame him.

Even if he was starting to think Chloe didn't deserve to even be considered in the same category as Bela and Ruby.

"So Sam?" Dean asked, pulling the younger man from his thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"How'd you know about that Lilian chick?" Dean glanced over at Sam before returning his gaze to the road. "Just another piece of trivial knowledge?"

Sam shook his head. "No. Chloe told me."

"Oh." Dean hesitant for a moment then nodded as if it was completely normal for Sam to get information from Chloe. His façade broke, though, when his grip tightened on the steering wheel.

Sam watched his brother's hands and knew he'd been right. Dean wasn't going to open up to Chloe any time soon.

But maybe, he'd still open up to Sam. Before it was too late.

* * *

Dean flipped absently through channels as he waited for Sam to return with dinner. After their last case and the daughter's death—and _Is that what you want me to do, Dean? Just let you go?_—sitting in a motel room wasn't high on his to-do list. But, Sam had asked, and he'd agreed. Sam was upset—he was usually upset—but that night he'd split his time between looking like a kicked puppy and trying to pretend nothing was wrong.

If eating in would make Sam feel better, Dean could resist the pull of the local bar. There was always the next night.

With a huff, he shut off the television and reached for his phone, almost grinning at the idea of calling his brother to complain about the delay—_I just left ten minutes ago, Dean. Chill._

It could either be the cure Sam needed to get out of his slump, or it could backfire. And lately, the chances were higher for a backfire. Dean was headed for Hell in less-than-a-year and Sam was—_understandably_—not taking it well.

Switching tactics, Dean scrolled back to the top of his phone list, skimming the list of numbers until he landed on one he'd only recently added: Chloe Sullivan.

Well, there were other ways to distract himself until his brother returned with food.

It had been weeks since they'd had any contact with the _Planet_ reporter. As far as Dean had been concerned, their drive from Smallville had been the end of that brief partnership—if it could have been called that. Chloe had gotten the information she'd needed, and they'd left town with her promise that the FBI wouldn't be hearing from her.

End of story.

But then she'd called Sam, and Dean realized he'd been wrong. They'd told her demons were preparing for battle—a fact he still regretted offering. She wasn't going to just sit back and ignore that kind of information—she'd said as much.

Really, it was surprising it had taken her so long to call them.

And Dean suddenly needed to know what had been said during their conversation. Sam wouldn't tell her anything personal. They both agreed it was best the reporter remained in the dark about the Winchesters—as in the dark as they could keep her.

Decision made, he pressed _talk_ and sat back, listening to the phone ring Chloe.

He wanted to be okay with Chloe's call to Sam. He didn't want to be bothered by Sam getting information from another Trivial Pursuit superstar—but he was.

And, really, it wasn't all Chloe's fault. If she had come into their lives a year earlier, he might have been a little less reluctant to trust her. But, so far, he and Sam were oh-for-two in the new acquaintances department.

Chloe might not be a heartless thief, and he knew she wasn't a demon, but that didn't mean she was on their side. He just wasn't looking forward to the day he was proven correct—

"Hello?"

Dean shifted as Chloe answered, momentarily relieved she couldn't see his thoughts played out on his face. "Hi Chloe."

"Dean? Huh, this is a surprise." She sounded friendly enough, but he still caught the hesitation in her voice. Apparently, his lack of complete ease around her hadn't gone unnoticed during their last meeting—go figure.

"Yeah, well, I wanted to call and thank you for your tip to Sam. It helped a lot." He scooped up the remote control and played with it as he spoke. He could charm his way in and out of most situations, but it was harder with phone calls. The lack of another face made gauging the other person much harder.

"I'm glad," Chloe said, earnest. "You never know when those pointless bits of trivia will come in handy." Her laugh was soft, yet forced. She didn't want to be on the phone with him.

But she'd still called Sam. Unprompted.

"Did you figure out who the spirit was?" she asked suddenly, genuine interest in her question. "Sam didn't tell me much," she added almost as an afterthought.

Tension, Dean didn't realize was there, eased from his shoulders and he relaxed a little more into the headboard. "Yeah. Turns out it was the spirit of a girl who'd been in a coma for years. She was trying to tell her dad that her step-mom had poisoned her."

"How very Snow White-esque."

"Exactly."

A silence settled over the conversation, and Dean thought about hanging up. _Sam didn't tell me much._

Before he could hang up, Chloe interrupted. "Hey Dean…"

"Yeah?"

"You and Sam watch out for yourselves." Her soft laugh was less forced the second time. "I hear the world just got a lot more dangerous."

Despite himself, Dean's mouth curled into a slow smile. So maybe she _was_ on their side—at least for the moment. "You too," he returned easily.

"Bye, Dean."

"Bye."

She hung up, leaving him to his thoughts. The phone call between her and Sam may have been simple enough, but something had changed. What that something was, he couldn't be sure. _You and Sam watch out for yourselves._

But somehow, he didn't think she had the FBI on speed dial anymore.

And, for the moment, that was enough.

To Be Continued…


	6. Pressure Points

"_You're my brother, Dean. And no matter what you do, I'm gonna try and save you. And I'm sure as hell not gonna apologize for it, all right?"_

His own words echoed through his head as he stared out the windshield into the dark night. Ever since his declaration, his brother had been silent. The only indication that Dean had heard Sam's words was the way his hands stiffened on the steering wheel.

Sam resisted the urge to reach across the small space and, literally, knock some sense into him. Why didn't Dean care about himself? Why had he been so willing to pack up and head to hell? For as long as Sam could remember, his brother had always been a fighter, but now it was as if all Dean's will to live had been taken when he had sold his soul.

Sam wasn't going to give up on Dean. He had promised he would get him out of his deal and, no matter what, he was going to keep his promise. Sometimes, though, he wondered if it would matter. Even if he got Dean out of his deal, would he care? Would he go back to his old self?

Would there be any real fight left in Dean, or was it all being used up on his suicidal jumps into danger.

"_Hey Sam? Feel free to call if you ever need to vent to a sympathetic ear, okay?"_

Chloe's offer nudged at the back of Sam's head, but he resisted its pull. He wasn't ready to turn to someone else for help— not unless they were going to provide him with a solution to Dean's deal. He didn't need a sympathetic ear, he needed someone to explain to Dean that giving up without a fight was never the right choice.

And no matter how honest her statement had been, Sam didn't think Chloe could help him with Dean. For one, she didn't know anything about his deal— and she wasn't going to. And two, if Sam couldn't get through to his brother then Chloe didn't have any chance.

_Fight for yourself Dean, please._ Sam mentally urged.

As if in response, his brother reached over and turned up the volume the radio. Wordlessly cutting off any more comments Sam might make.

* * *

Dean curled his lip as he buttoned his tux and stood in front of the mirror. He could handle a suit and tie when he had to play cop, but a tux was another story. Just because Sean Connery and a handful of other men could pull off the tux, didn't mean every man could. _I sound like a girl._ Dean mused, fixing his bowtie.

Bowtie? Seriously?

"Dean, Sam just left. Will you hurry up!" Bela called from downstairs.

Dean glared at his reflection, imagining it was Bela. He'd met women who could push his buttons, but the Brit preferred to pound on them. If she tried anything stupid during the dinner party, he wasn't going to be held responsible for his actions.

_I think I'd prefer the horny grandma._ Dean thought, remembering the way Gertrude had eyeballed Sam during their interview. He had missed her reaction to seeing his little brother in a tux, but he had no problem imagining her face. Sam had looked ready to crawl out of his skin when Bela had told him who his date would be. Dean could just imagine how he must feel stuck in a car with her.

_Consider it penance for your stunt, little bro._ Dean still couldn't believe his brother had been stupid enough to, first off, threaten the crossroads demon with the Colt, then actually shoot her. Sam was lucky nothing had happened to him, because, if anything had, Dean would have been the first to resurrect him, just to kill him again. He really wished Sam would learn to let the deal go. He was going to get himself in trouble and Dean didn't have another soul to save him with.

"Dean!"

"What?"

"What is taking so long? Sam's already halfway there…with his date."

"So not okay with this," Dean called down. He shot one last glance at himself in the mirror and was surprised to find himself reminded of Chloe Sullivan. He had a feeling she'd love seeing him in a tux. With her Metropolis upbringing, she probably preferred men dressed to impress. Personally, he hated the entire thing.

Especially the bowtie.

_

* * *

_

I think I preferred believing Kansas was located on a seismic plate.

Chloe thought as she sat down in the Kent's living room. Just when she thought she was okay with the latest Clark and Lana hook-up, they threw her a curveball landing her smack in middle of their sex-life. At least this time it wasn't Clark coming to her for advice, but it was still just as uncomfortable.

She was Clark's best friend, and she knew that meant she had to take on extra responsibilities considering his extraterrestrial status, but there needed to be a line drawn at sex-life. Unfortunately, that line had never been completely drawn so now she had to play babysitter to her newly super-powered friend. Lana and Clark were too thrilled by their new equality to realize the danger in Lana's "gift".

_So the task of worrying about consequences falls to me._ Chloe mused, rolling her eyes. Clark and Lana were her best friends and she wanted the best for them, but sometimes they could be such pains.

"_His usual pain-in-the-ass self."_ Chloe smirked, remembering Sam Winchester's words from their last phone conversation. Apparently she had something in common with the younger Winchester besides research skills. Hopefully Dean didn't harass Sam with his love-life, but considering the little Chloe knew from their meetings she'd guess Dean found joy in doing just that.

At least Sam never felt the earth literally shake as Dean went at it with another girl. Chloe shuddered slightly, trying to push the thought from her mind before Lana returned from getting dressed. Chloe was fine with watching her friend, but thinking about her and Clark—together— was something she needed to stop doing that instant.

_I wonder what the Winchesters are up to._ Chloe thought, forcing her thoughts from anything Clark and Lana related.

* * *

"We need to get that hand back," Sam said as he pulled off his tux.

Dean threw his cummerbund onto his bed. "Really? Thanks for the news flash, Sam." When he got his hands on Bela he was going to strangle her. The woman had made him dress up and play spoiled, rich snob then had stolen the sailor's hand from his coat.

"Who do you think she sold it to?" Sam asked, ignoring his brother's remark.

"No idea, but she better hope they have a return policy." Dean pulled off the rest of his tux and slipped on his jeans and shirt.

Sam was already dressed and folding his tux. "She's going to get herself in trouble," he said, moving on to Dean's tux.

Dean was caught off guard by Sam's words. For some reason they reminded him of Chloe. Ever since his talk with her the week prior, he had been debating about what she and Sam had talked about. "Speaking of Chloe," Dean said, attempting to smooth his rough transition with a smirk. "What exactly did you two talk about last week?"

Sam looked up from folding Dean's shirt. "Subtle," he muttered, pursing his lips.

"Yeah well, when I talked to her she sounded hesitant, like she knew something I wouldn't want her to know."

"When did she call you?"

"She didn't. I called her," Dean said.

"Why?"

He shrugged, noting anxiously that Sam still hadn't answered his question. "To thank her for her help."

Sam crossed his arms, giving his brother a look that said he knew Dean was full of it. "Why?" he repeated.

"I wanted to know what she knew," Dean admitted finally.

"You could have just asked," Sam argued.

"Well, I am now."

"Nothing, Dean. I told her nothing about us. We just talked about the case," Sam snapped, piling his tux on top of Dean's and setting them on the dresser. Before Dean could respond Sam turned back around, pinning his brother with a glare. "You actually thought I'd tell her everything after I'd told you I wouldn't?"

Dean glanced at the floor before meeting his brother's glare. He hated it when Sam made him feel guilty. "Just checking," he mumbled. He should have known Sam wouldn't tell Chloe anything. But he still couldn't help feeling slightly relieved at his brother's statement. He didn't have a big problem with Chloe— at least not as big as with Bella— but he still didn't want her knowing their whole story. _Although_, Dean thought, watching his brother lace up his boots mechanically, _maybe she can help Sam cope with my deal. Just as long as she doesn't turn into another Gordon. _

* * *

Chloe sighed as she walked out of the Isis office. She didn't regret what she had told Lana, but she wished there had never been a need to say the words. Despite her ever-lingering feelings for Clark, she really just wanted him to be happy. If that meant being with Lana then she wished them a long, healthy relationship. But if Lana was going to continue down the path she'd stumbled upon since dating Lex, Chloe couldn't see a happy ending for Smallville's favorite couple.

_I don't wanna be Dr. Phil anymore._ She thought as she walked out of the building. She'd never trade her new status as Clark's closest confidant, but playing relationship counselor to her friends was going to drive her to an early grave. She needed a break. Her fingers itched at the thought of sitting behind her computer at _The Planet_ and getting lost in her a new story.

"_I would do anything for Clark."_ Chloe rubbed a hand over her face, remembering Lana's words. Maybe hiding behind her computer wouldn't work this time. She needed a bigger break.

_I wonder if the Winchesters could use a stowaway?_ She mused, her fingers brushing over the cell phone in her purse. As far as breaks went, hunting demons with the two brother's was probably the farthest from Smallville's problems she could get.

She laughed, pulling her hand from her purse. "Those two guys and me in an Impala? No thanks," she said aloud. But as she got into her car, she couldn't help imagining just that.

* * *

"So that's it? Nothing else to say for you?"

"I think maybe I'll play craps."

Sam glared at his brother. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice told him to drop the argument. It was the same voice that used to tell him to stop fighting with his dad, or to give up his full-ride to college because he needed to stay home. Over the years, it hadn't grown any stronger and Sam was even less inclined to listen to it now.

"Dean— "

"Enough Sam!" Dean snapped, cutting him off. Sam had learned to almost completely ignore his inner voice and Dean had learned to shut down Sam's outer voice. When he barked an order, Sam was often reminded of John. There really was no mistaking who their father had been.

Before Sam could attempt to argue further, Dean reached over and turned up the volume on the radio. AC/DC screamed out of the speakers and Sam slumped in his seat, cursing the stubborn streak that ran as strongly in Dean as it did in him. He'd let it go for now, but he was going to get through to Dean before it was to late.

He glanced at his brother then leaned over and turned down the deafening music a little. When he sat back, he saw Dean turn off the road too soon. He was about to point out the wrong turn, but decided against it. Dean wasn't one to forget where he had to go. Sam just hoped wherever they were headed was worth it.


	7. Comfort Zone

Chloe resisted the urge to bang her head against her desk as she sat down. She had had her share of harsh editors, but no one compared to the insulting Grant Gabriel. He made Kahn look like Glenda the Good Witch. She could take Lex's harsh, arrogant attitude (mostly because she figured she kind-of deserved it), but she could not stand Grant's condescending tone. And what was worse was the fact that he approved of Lois over her. She loved her cousin and she knew that she had the potential to be a great reporter— once she upped her typing speed— but for the moment, Lois was the grasshopper and Chloe was the sensei.

_As long as they don't replace me with her I guess I can handle it._ She thought, standing as the mail was handed to her.

"Excuse me, Miss." Chloe glanced up when she heard a familiar voice across the room.

"Sam? Dean?" She smiled, and hurried towards them. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Visiting you," Dean replied as if it were something they did often. He gave her a wry smirk, but Chloe could tell it was only half-hearted. She had a feeling that whatever problems the brothers had had during their last talk were still lingering.

"I meant, what are you doing in town. Last I heard you two were in New York," she amended. She doubted the brothers had driven to Kansas just to visit her, although, she didn't mind the thought. _I need to get out more._ She decided, embarrassed by her own thought process.

Sam and Dean looked at each other, silently communicating something Chloe couldn't catch. "We were just passing through," Sam said with a small shrug.

Chloe still didn't buy it. "Really?"

"Look, we didn't mean to bother you. We can leave if— " Dean started, but Chloe cut him off.

"No! No, it's fine. I'm just surprised is all." She gave him a small smile. "So you were just passing through…where were you before?"

"Sullivan! Can you tell me why your article isn't ready to be edited?" Grant asked, appearing at Chloe's side. She really hated when he did that. Not many people had the ability to sneak up on her, but apparently Grant was one of the skilled few. He kind of reminded her of Lex with that stealth.

She gestured to her desk. "I'm just polishing it up."

"Really? Well you must be one powerful typist to be able to do that from over here. I need that article on my desk pronto or it's not going to make it in tomorrow's edition," Grant stated, moving past the small group before Chloe could respond.

"Right away, sir," Chloe mumbled, giving a small salute.

Dean whistled once he was out of ear shot. "Nice guy," he mumbled.

Chloe smiled and shrugged. "Welcome to the new _Daily Planet_. I better get that article done before he takes another lap through here." She took a step towards her desk as she spoke. "But if you guys are going to be in town for a while why don't we meet up later?"

"Sure."

* * *

"So what happened to Atlantic City?" Sam asked his brother as he sat back on his hotel bed.

Dean shrugged. "We'll go later. I just wanted to get away from the coast for a while."

"And Chloe had nothing to do with it?" Sam asked, smirking at his brother.

Dean didn't look up from the shotgun he was cleaning. "It was either here or Bobby's. I picked the city."

"Mmhmm." Sam settled into his pillow, biting back his comment. He'd never known Dean to pick a large city over Bobby's place. Dean didn't like the cities unless they offered him something such as a casino, in the case of Atlantic City, or a curvy blonde. Although, Sam had a hard time believing Dean was interested in Chloe that way. He still wasn't completely at ease around her, so there was little chance he was looking to add her to his list of flings. Which as fine by Sam. He preferred to not know the girls Dean was "intimate" with.

Sam stood as someone knocked on the hotel door. It was mid-afternoon which probably meant a maid had overlooked their 'do not disturb' sign. He kept his stride slow as he walked to the door, allowing Dean a moment to store the guns. Most people didn't appreciate a bed full of artillery; it tended to make them nervous. After checking the peep hole, he turned and gave his brother a small nod.

"Hey Chloe," he greeted, opening the door for the reporter.

"Hey Sam, Dean." She nodded at the brothers as she walked inside. As if in response, Dean let out a small sigh, causing Chloe to frown. "Were you expecting someone?"

"No," Dean replied. He reached under the bed and pulled out his bag of weapons. "I thought I might have to hide these from a nosy maid."

"Oh."

"So, what are you doing here?" Sam asked, pulling over a chair for her. She mumbled a thanks and sat down, crossing her arms over her bag. "I thought you had an article to work on."

Chloe paused before answering, playing with the small clasp on an outer pocked of her bag. She looked troubled by something, but Sam knew better than to ask what. She was about as open with her personal problems as they were. It was going to take more than his soft-eyes to get her to confide in him. "I finished early, so I thought I'd take a long lunch break," she said finally. "My boss was…preoccupied when I went to his office so I don't think he'll miss me."

"Preoccupied? As in getting an exclusive with his favorite reporter?" Dean asked with an amused smirk.

"It's unethical for me to say," she deadpanned, earning a snort from Dean. "So what have you two been up to, besides driving across country just to 'pass through' Metropolis?"

Sam noted her quick subject change, but didn't comment. He had a feeling she was as comfortable with what she had seen as he was about his glimpse into Dean's sex life. Ignoring what had happened didn't make the mental image go away any faster, but it helped to keep it from the forefront of the mind.

"Well, Sammy here has been turning on the older women," Dean said, patting his brother on the back.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Ha. Ha."

* * *

Dean was amazed as he watched Chloe's face light up with interest. He and Sam were in the process of filling her in on their last case in Massachusetts and she had been in a state of complete intrigue since the start. She wasn't the first person to find their work interesting, but it was a little more than simple curiosity for her. She seemed generally excited to learn about all the supernatural stuff there was out there. Although, he had a feeling her excitement had more to do with the hunting than the prey. Which, considering all the strange things she'd encountered throughout her life, wasn't too surprising.

For the most part, he and Sam knew what they were hunting and how to stop it. It may be supernatural, but there was some kind of handbook to their job. With the things that Chloe faced, there was no handbook, at least not one he could see.

"Bela Talbot? Sounds like a remarkable woman," she snarked once Sam finished.

Dean shared a look with his brother. "Yeah. Remarkable," they mumbled in unison. Chloe snickered.

"No matter what career you're in there's always going to be someone only in it for themselves." Chloe paused, her expression darkening a little. "Or just out to make everyone else miserable."

Dean watched her mouth set into a firm line, surprised to find he missed her smile. It was a nice smile— even if he'd only seen it a handful of times. He had a feeling the annoyed expression was not meant for Bela, though. "They'll get what's coming to them eventually," he said.

"Let's hope it's soon."

There was a lull in the conversation as Chloe watched Dean clean the guns, and Sam watched them both. For a moment, Dean felt a calm settle over the room. Almost since the moment he'd met her, Chloe had been a force of energy: full of excitement, curiosity, or even anger. Now, though, as she sat quietly and let the silence go unfilled he realized she had a calm side to her as well.

Normally, Dean cleaned the weapons in the evenings as Sam researched a hunt. The time could be spent in complete silence or filled with conversation about their current hunt, but either way it was time for the brothers to regroup and find calm in an otherwise hectic lifestyle. Dean wasn't sentimental enough to say those moment were important for him and Sam, but it wasn't very often a third party was involved. Over the years, they had become exclusive almost by some unspoken rule.

Now, though, Dean found himself breaking the rule as he continued his cleaning and instinctively waited for the conversation to turn to a hunt.

Taking his silent cue, Chloe turned to Sam. "Have you guys found any more leads on the demons?"

Sam shook his head. "No."

"Yeah, me neither," Chloe admitted.

"You've been investigating the demons?" Dean asked, feeling annoyance simmer in the pit of his stomach. He should have known she wouldn't stay on the sidelines. It wasn't in her nature.

"From the relative safety of my desk," Chloe assured. "I've just been keeping up with the cities where the dark clouds were spotted. I don't know exactly what to look for, but I think I can tell if something is off."

"If you find anything, let us know?"

"Really? I was thinking of telling my other hunting contacts." Chloe smirked at Dean.

"You have other contacts?" Dean asked. That was quick. It had been little more than a month since she'd met the brothers and she now had other contacts in the hunting business?

"It was a joke." She paused, watching his expression harden slightly. Sometimes, Dean really hated sarcasm. "A bad joke, apparently."

Dean shook his head as his brother pulled the conversation back on track. "You haven't noticed anything?"

"Not so far. At least nothing that the news has reported. It's quiet."

"Maybe the demons are lying low."

"Yeah," Sam agreed cynically, "and planning their attack."

"Do you think this is just the calm before the storm?" Chloe asked.

Dean caught his brother's gaze, trying to gauge what Sam thought they should say. Part of him wanted to tell Chloe everything, but he still believed it wasn't necessary to worry her with the details. Maybe he'd tell her some day, but not now. She was probably scaring herself enough with her research. "Probably," he said instead. It was the truth, but it wasn't all of it.

Chloe nodded as if she'd expected that answer. "Well, unfortunately, things aren't completely calm." She reached into her bag and pulled out some papers, handing them to the brothers. "A few states over some girls have gone missing, and the police just found a corpse in some back alley. Cause of death: blood loss. From the neck."

"You don't seem surprised," Sam pointed-out, reviewing the information.

Chloe shrugged. "I've learned to expect the unexpected and, unfortunately, vampires are old news."

"You've encountered vampires?"

"Yeah, but they were less supernatural and more rabies-infected."

"Rabies?"

Chloe brushed the question off. "It's easier not to explain."

Dean glanced at the papers in his lap and smirked. "So, only a few states over?"

"Yeah," Chloe smiled. "Which means less driving to get 'in the neighborhood' again."

Dean nodded, catching his brother's gaze. Sam was actually smiling at Chloe's statement. He wanted to smile, too, at just the fact that Sam looked happy, but something stopped him. Reality decided to take that moment to smack him in the face. They couldn't do this. He and Sam couldn't get so close and comfortable with Chloe that they were actually planning to visit again.

Chloe would be fine researching in the "relative safety" of her desk. If they kept coming around, though, that safety was going to disappear. The only thing Chloe knew about the supernatural was what he and Sam had filled her in on, and possibly what she'd dug up on the Internet. It wasn't enough to defend herself against the hundreds of new demons crawling around.

Dean set his jaw, making a mental note to stay away as long as possible. He had come to Metropolis hoping Chloe might be his answer to helping Sam cope with his deal. Unfortunately, he was only now realizing it had been a false hope. Sam wasn't going to tell Chloe anything, because Dean wouldn't allow it, and if he couldn't tell her anything there wasn't much they could talk about.

"Looks like we've got a new hunt," he said, looking forward to the moment he could put the 'few states' between them and Metropolis. _It's better this way._ He decided, ignoring the small, arguing voice in his head that sounded remarkably like Sam.


	8. Revelation

"So, New Year's Eve is in a few days. Let's get plastered at the bar down the street." Dean looked up at his brother from his spot on the bed. Ever since Christmas, Sam had spent his days behind his laptop. Even the day after their Christmas drinking binge, when Dean had been nursing a small, hangover-induced headache, Sam had been up and behind the glaring screen without so much as a grimace.

Dean wasn't completely sure what he was researching, but he had a feeling it had to do with crossroads demons and breaking deals. He had given up trying to stop the research months ago. Now, he just hoped Sam would give up before he stressed himself into an early grave.

Sam surprised Dean by looking up from the screen with a small smile. "I don't think we can top Christmas."

Dean whistled, remembering his brother's eggnog flavored whiskey. "You're probably right, but there'll be chicks at the bar."

Sam shook his head. "No, thanks. You've covered both our yearly quotas for chicks."

"We have quotas?"

"You know what I mean."

"No I don't. What quotas?"

Sam pursed his lips, glaring at his brother. "Actually, I was thinking we could head over to Smallville. Check up on Chloe."

"No," Dean said. He sat up, swinging his legs off the bed. "I told you, I don't want to visit her anymore. It's better if we just stay away."

"Better for who?" Sam asked. "It's not like she's asking to go along on a hunt, and I know you enjoy visiting her."

"If she wanted to see us she would have called."

"She doesn't know our new numbers," Sam argued. "For all we know, she's been trying to get in touch with us for a while now and couldn't get through."

"I don't want her involved."

Sam sighed. "She's been involved since she heard the name Dean Winchester. We didn't introduce her to this stuff."

"No, we just pointed her in the right direction," Dean said dryly.

"Yeah and if we hadn't she would have found some other hunter who was willing to fill her in. Possibly someone more along the lines of Gordon."

Dean rolled his eyes. This argument was old. They'd been having it since Chloe had called them back to Smallville months ago. "I still say no."

* * *

Chloe smiled as she watched Jimmy joke with another reporter. She never thought a bomb could be helpful, but ever since being trapped in the elevator with Jimmy and a deadly explosive, she'd realized there was still hope for her and her favorite photographer.

But, she was still on the fence over whether confessing her powers had been a good or bad thing. She was grateful to finally have it off of her chest and not looming like a bad omen over their relationship, but, she couldn't shake her fear that Jimmy might not accept her. It was an irrational fear since he had, in fact, accepted her the moment she'd come clean, but she couldn't ignore the look he'd given her after she'd healed him.

Her cell phone buzzed on her desk and she scooped it up, anxiously checking the caller ID. False alarm. _No, this isn't Jennifer. Please stop calling._ Chloe thought, ignoring the call. It had been weeks since she'd last heard from the Winchesters, and she still couldn't stop from jumping at the phone every time it rang. Just in case.

She'd figured out after the fourth "this number is not available" that the brothers had ditched their old cell phones. At least she hoped they had. A part of her worried their phones were dead because they'd met the same fate as their owners. Sam _had_ mentioned that seasoned hunters were being killed in the war.

For some reason— either from gut instinct or simple unwillingness to accept the morbid possibility— Chloe didn't believe the brothers were dead. Although, if they weren't it meant they had changed their phones and hadn't felt it necessary to tell her their new numbers. She wanted to just let it go, knowing they weren't ignoring her if they didn't have a good reason, but she could stop herself.Ever since their last impromptu stop through town, Chloe had been thinking about the brothers more than she'd ever admit. She tried justifying it as simple worry, but it was more than that. Since coming clean to Jimmy, she'd wondered what the Winchesters would think of her powers. With their experience in the weird and unknown, would they look at her like Jimmy had, or just accept her? It was crazy to think about telling them her secret when she still hadn't admitted it to her cousin, but she couldn't help it. She knew the brothers weren't completely honest with her, so she had every right to return the favor. But she was tired of the shaky trust between them.It was a risky plan, and chances were she'd regret it later, but she wanted to tell them. _Maybe I am going nuts._

Of course, if she never heard from them again she'd never get the chance to spill her secret.

* * *

"So, you're saying you want to stay away forever?" Sam asked.

Dean sighed, standing to move around the hotel. "Yes, Sam. That's exactly what I'm saying."

"Why?" Sam held up a hand as soon as he asked the question, silencing his brother. "And don't tell me you're keeping her safe. I know that's not the only reason."

Dean glared at his brother, but Sam could tell he was starting to crack. "I just don't like her."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh." He crossed his arms. "Does this have anything to do with your deal?"

"No. I told you. I don't want her hurt. Period."

"I think you don't want to get attached." Sam knew Dean was worried that if they continued to spend time with Chloe they might actually grow to like her (more than they already did), and in their line of work having close connections wasn't the best idea. Sam didn't want to become attached any more than Dean did, but that didn't mean he wanted to ignore Chloe. She might be helpful. And she was definitely a step above Bela or Ruby.

"Exactly!" Dean snapped. He paused then shook his head. "No. I mean, I don't want _her_ to get attached."

Sam looked down, fighting back emotions. "Why? Because you're going to hell?" he asked softly.

Dean paused, sensing his brother's pain. "We're not going," he mumbled stubbornly, instead of answering.

* * *

When Chloe spotted the Winchesters across the room, she resisted the urge to rub her eyes. A small part of her was afraid she was imagining them and any movement would make them disappear.

As if sensing her thoughts, Sam found her gaze and smiled. She smiled back, gesturing to the copy room beside them. The brothers followed her inside, shutting the door behind them. They both looked troubled, but Chloe couldn't imagine why. At least she didn't want to imagine why. She didn't think she was ready to face a demon war, but then again, she usually wasn't ready to face what she had to.

"I thought you two were dead," she said, resisting the sudden urge to pull Sam into a hug. She didn't think he would push her away, but she knew it would be more awkward than comforting. She didn't even think about hugging Dean. The older brother still made her nervous. "Are you guys okay?"

Sam looked pointedly at Dean, communicating something in their silent, brother language. Dean responded with a glare and an eye roll. "We're fine, but we need to talk."

Chloe nodded. "Yeah. We do." As she spoke, Sam reached up and adjusted his jacket, giving her a clear view of the band aid on his finger. "What happened?" she asked, gesturing to his hand.

Sam glanced at his finger and grimaced as if the memory was more painful than the actual sore. "Dean and I ran into some evil, Christmas gods."

"O-kay." By now, Chloe knew better than to ask questions, unless it was important. "Can I see it?"

* * *

Sam shared a confused look with Dean. Chloe wanted to see his injured finger? That was a new one. "My nail was pulled off. It's not pretty."

"I'm sure, but that's not why I want to see it."

"Then why?" Dean asked.

Chloe smiled softly, as if she suddenly understood the strangeness of her request. "Because I want to explain something to you."

"What?"

"My resurrection."

Sam shot his brother another look, this one more surprised than confused. He thought they'd silently agreed to not bring up her resurrection again. Ever since their first confrontation, when she'd threatened to call the FBI if they didn't stay away, her resurrection had stopped being a possible topic. If Chloe was bringing it up on her own it meant she'd finally come to trust them on some level.

During their drive to Metropolis, Sam had convinced Dean to tell Chloe more about the demon war. He hadn't expected Chloe to have the same "coming clean" mentality. As much as he appreciated her sudden trust, he wasn't sure he wanted it. Chloe wasn't the kind of woman to reveal her secrets without first becoming attached.

Dean didn't want her to get attached because he thought he was headed to Hell. Sam simply didn't want her getting attached, because he knew there was a chance he and his brother wouldn't survive this war. He was determined to save his brother's soul, but that didn't mean they would make it to the other side unscathed.

"Chloe, you don't— "

"I want to," Chloe argued, cutting him off. "You remember all those mutated people you read about in my articles?" Both brothers nodded. "Well, they got that way from the two meteor showers."

Sam held up a hand, stopping her explanation. "We know all this, Chloe. I did research, remember."

Chloe nodded in response. "Of course, but what you, probably, don't know is that I'm one of them." She paused, her expression hardening in anxiety, anticipating the brothers' reaction.

"And your mutation is coming back to life?" Dean asked.

"Not exactly."

"Then what?"

When Chloe locked eyes with Sam, he was overwhelmed by the degree of emotions he saw. She wasn't just confessing a secret, she was placing trust in them by exposing a part of her that he guessed she hadn't shared with many.

And she was terrified of the outcome.

"Let me see your finger."

* * *

There was a pause after Chloe spoke and Dean took the time to let the conversation replay in his mind. He wasn't completely sure he was comfortable with her confession, but he didn't want to stop her. She had said her mutation wasn't 'exactly' resurrection. What was that supposed to mean?"

Sam glanced at Dean, asking for permission to do as Chloe said. He nodded.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Chloe said as Sam pulled the band aid off his finger, exposing the still healing nail bed. She grimaced. "Nice."

"Told ya," Sam muttered, but his voice trailed off as Chloe reached for his finger.

Dean tensed as Chloe's hands began to glow. She had promised she wouldn't hurt his brother, but he had a hard time staying calm when Sam encountered something supernatural— or in this case, extraterrestrial.

The small room was completely silent as the brothers watched Sam's finger and Chloe watched their faces. After a beat, the glow died down and Chloe pulled her hand back, revealing Sam's newly healed nail.

"That's handy," Dean mumbled in awe.

"Yeah," Chloe muttered, gripping her finger.

"Are you okay?" Dean grabbed her hand, studying her pointer finger. Her nail was still in place, but she was grimacing as if it had been ripped off. "You heal people by taking on their injuries?" Dean guessed, unconsciously rubbing her small hand between his two larger ones.

Chloe nodded, meeting his gaze. He was surprised by the sudden ease he felt looking into her green eyes. In his experience, people rarely revealed secrets unless they had some motive behind it. If Chloe had a motive, it was simply to let the brothers know she trusted them.

"So how did you end up in the hospital?" Sam asked, pulling Dean's gaze from her eyes.

"I healed my cousin."

"She knows about this?" Dean asked, holding her hand up by way of expressing what 'this' was.

"No."

Dean looked at his brother, remembering their earlier agreement. He needed to tell her something, too.

He just hoped she was ready to hear it.

To Be Continued…


	9. Confession

Sam watched his brother rub Chloe's hand, knowing from the way he was watching her face he wasn't completely aware of what he was doing. Sam had thought Dean would have run as fast as he could from Chloe's confession, considering how strongly he'd been against her getting attached. Now, he could see running wasn't what Dean had in mind.

As if reading his thoughts, Dean met Sam's gaze. The younger brother nodded, silently telling Dean to fill Chloe in on the rest of the devil's gate information.

"I have something to tell you." Dean stepped away from Chloe, stuffing his hands in his pocket.

Chloe nodded. "You mentioned that."

"Yeah, well. What I have to tell you isn't as cool as superpowers."

Chloe held her finger, absently rubbing it as Dean had been. "Yeah, 'cause my superpower is so great." She smiled tightly.

Dean visibly swallowed, catching Sam's gaze for a moment. There was an apology in his eyes, and Sam felt fear well up. Why was his brother apologizing?

"I'm going to Hell."

Sam blinked, feeling like he'd been sucker punched. That wasn't what Dean was supposed to tell Chloe. He was just supposed to give her details of what had happened at the devil's gate in Wyoming. They were going to tell her about Yellow Eyes to explain how dangerous demons were.

Sam tried to catch Dean's gaze again to tell him to stop talking, but his brother was avoiding him.

"Why?" Chloe asked, sounding as shocked as Sam felt.

"I traded my soul to save Sam." Dean spoke matter-of-factly, his face neutral as if he were telling her about the weather.

"Traded your soul?"

"Yeah, he died and I— "

"I get what 'traded my soul' means," Chloe said, cutting him off. "I just didn't realize it was possible."

"It's possible," Sam mumbled. Dean finally met his gaze, but Sam looked away. He didn't want to see Dean's apology again.

"How long do you have?"

"Less than a year."

_Five months._ Sam added mentally.

He watched Chloe's face pale, cursing his brother's impulsive nature. Chloe wasn't ready to hear this— not that he expected she ever would be, but at the moment she was _really_ not ready.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked, sounding remarkably strong despite the paleness of her features.

"Because you needed to know."

Chloe looked between the brothers as if waiting for a punch line. When neither of them spoke, she nodded. "Oh."

Sam took that as their cue to leave and guided his brother to the door. "We're gonna go," he said, slipping out of the room as soon as she nodded.

* * *

Chloe walked to her desk slowly, fearing that any sudden movement would break her. If she had known her talk with the Winchesters was going to be one full of heavy secrets, she would have come better prepared.

"_I'm going to Hell."_

Chloe shivered as she sat at her desk.

And she thought her secret was big. She was just a freak, Dean was going to Hell to save his brother.

"Hey Chloe, you okay?" Jimmy asked, walking up to her desk.

She glanced up, slightly startled. "Yeah, why?"

Jimmy shrugged. "You looked scared, like you'd just heard bad news."

"Oh."

'Bad news'. That was one way of putting it. She blinked, feeling her eyes well up. Was she really crying for Dean? She never thought she'd see the day. Of course, she never thought she'd learn what she just had about Dean's death.

Although, looking back, she shouldn't be that surprised by how big his secret had been. Ever since she'd started asking questions about the demons, she'd sensed a hesitation from the brothers. There was probably more to it than just Dean's deal, but she couldn't imagine anything much worse. And considering the glare Sam had shot Dean, the deal wasn't what the brothers had intended on telling her about.

_They trust me._ She smiled at Jimmy as the thought ran through her mind. For the first time since healing Sam's finger, Chloe felt comfortable with her decision. She had placed trust in the Winchesters and had been rewarded with their trust.

There was just one more thing to do for them.

* * *

"What the hell, Dean?" Sam snapped as soon as they walked into the hotel.

"What?"

"You know 'what'. Why did you tell Chloe about your deal? Why did she need to know?"

Dean turned to face his brother. "She deserved to know."

"No," Sam argued. "She didn't."

"You're the one who wanted to involve her. If she's going to be working with us she needs to know what's going to happen."

"'What's going to happen'? If you actually cared about saving yourself, we could stop it from happening."

Dean glared. He really didn't want to have this conversation again. Neither of them was going to change their opinion. He suddenly missed the days when their big problem had been trying to find Dad and figuring out where they stood as brothers after Sam's absence.

The search for their dad had been hard, but at least it hadn't been as draining as Dean's deal was on both of them. He would make the deal a thousand times over, but watching his brother get this worked up was painful.

Instead of responding to Sam, he turned and walked to the sink. Maybe if he didn't say anything, Sam would drop it. And then they could talk about more interesting things, like Chloe's power. Dean made a mental note to figure out more about the mutated people of Smallville.

"Dean!"

"What?" Dean snapped back.

Sam just looked at him, lecturing without words.

"Sam, drop it," Dean said, wondering what had happened to the conversation they had had the week prior. He thought Sam had finally agreed with him that his deadline was inevitable. Sam hadn't argued when Dean had said he was facing his last Christmas. Now, though, Sam was back to stressing about the Deadline.

Sam shook his head. "I'm going for a walk," he mumbled before storming out of the room.

Dean watched him go and shook his head. "That went well."

* * *

Sam paused before walking back into the hotel. He didn't like arguing with his brother— no more than most people with siblings. Lately, though, it had been hard to keep his mouth shut. Dean didn't care enough to save his own life, so Sam had to care _for_ him. Taking a deep breath, Sam stepped inside the hotel, instantly spotting his brother across the room.

Dean looked up from Sam's laptop. "Hey," he said, masking the startled look he'd worn with a light tone.

"You're not going to freeze my computer again, are you?" Sam asked, walking behind his brother.

"No, Sam. I'm just doing some research."

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Shaddup," Dean mumbled, turning the laptop so Sam could see the screen. "I was researching more about the Smallville mutants."

"Mutants?"

"Sorry. 'Gifted citizens'."

Sam rolled his eyes. "So, what did you find?"

"Not much, except a list of all the mutated people who have made the news. There seems to be a pattern, though."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, apparently once you're infected you either go nuts or die."

"Nice," Sam said. "No wonder Chloe seemed so freaked. The odds aren't exactly in her favor."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, but I don't think she'll go nuts. And she's definitely not going to die."

"You mean you hope she won't."

"No." Dean stated. "She'll be fine."

Sam didn't respond as he watched his brother search through more articles, wondering what had happened to keeping Chloe at a distance— not that he was going to argue. He liked Chloe and if Dean was finally warming up to her then he wasn't going to question it. Now, hopefully, he wouldn't have to twist Dean's arm to get him to check up on her again.

He still wished she didn't know about Dean's deal, but it was pointless to worry about that. It was done and all they could do was move forward.

* * *

Chloe smiled when Sam opened the door with a careful look. She was less-than-surprised by his reaction to her at the door. After everything that had been revealed that afternoon, she was feeling just as uncertain. Secrets had been revealed and now came time for the second step: making sure the trust had been well-placed.

She shifted her bag, hoping the brothers would not regret their confession. "Hey Sam."

"Hi Chloe." Sam stepped back, letting her walk into the hotel room.

Across the room, Dean looked up from his position behind a laptop and smiled softly. "Didn't expect to see you."

Chloe nodded, thinking about how close she'd been to not showing up. In the end, though, she'd decided she wasn't going to let Dean's deal scare her away. The Winchesters were her best connection to the supernatural and she knew she was going to need them in the future.

Besides, she kind of liked being with them.

"It's going to take more than a crossroads deal to scare me away," Chloe said. _My best friend's an alien, after all._ She added mentally.

"Good to know, because there's more to tell you."

Chloe let out a small laugh. "You guys sure don't go easy on a girl."

"Not if you're going to keep researching the demon war," Sam said as Chloe sat down on the end of the bed closest to Dean. "You need to know what's going on. And just how dangerous this war is."

"You mean, there's more than what you told me already?" Chloe asked, remembering all the brothers had told her a few months prior. Last summer, the brothers had tried, and failed, to stop a devil's gate in Wyoming from opening and letting out an army of demons. While all demons were dangerous, some of the newly released ones were so powerful they were downright deadly. _Such as, the Seven Deadly Sins._ Chloe thought with a mental shudder.

"Unfortunately, yes."

Chloe nodded, holding her bag to her chest as Sam and Dean took turns telling her about the kidnappings and relocations to Cold Oaks, Jake and Sam's fight, and the fact that the demons seemed to know about the Winchesters.

"As much as we'd like to think otherwise," Sam said, "these demons are smart. They know about hunters like me and Dean. And they know how to fight us."

"It's because of demon leader isn't it?" Chloe asked, finding her voice after the brothers were done. They shared a look and Chloe sensed the unease pass between the men. "I mean, this demon leader had it out for your family for some reason, right? That's why the demons know about you guys."

"Chloe, there are some things— "

Chloe held up a hand, stopping Dean. "It's okay, I get it. I don't expect you to tell me everything. I know better than anyone that everyone has secrets they need to keep. I can't say I won't ask, unfortunately my mouth has a mind of its own, but if you don't want to tell I'll understand. All I ask is that you keep me informed on this war."

Dean nodded. "Just keep yourself safe."

There was a pause, and Chloe took the time to dig out the contents of her bag. "So, there was another reason I came." She handed the stack of papers to Sam. "That's everything I found on you two. Every news article, every police report, even some quotes from people I called."

Sam looked over the stack, handing some to his brother. "Why are you giving this to us?"

Chloe shrugged. "I guess I could have just burned it, but I thought it was more symbolic to hand it over. I've gotten into trouble in the past, having information on me about people who didn't want to be known. I didn't want to make the same mistake with you guys." She smiled, watching Dean smirk at a list of quotes. "Besides, I figured you two might get a kick out of it."

"Thanks," Sam said, looking touched by her gesture.

"Well, it doesn't come for free." Both brothers looked up. "You can keep it all to do with as you like, as long as I get your new cell numbers."

"You've got a deal."

To Be Continued…


	10. Dangerous Gig

_Stealing computer files one week and investigating a murder the next._ Chloe mused as she ducked under the police tape. _At least my life is never boring._ Especially not when her new boss, Lex, sent her to investigate murders all the way on the state border.

She shook her head, picking her way into the house. If it weren't for the police tape surrounding the split-level home, she never would have guessed such a gruesome murder had occurred inside. _Chopped up like sushi. Gross._ Chloe thought, standing in the entryway.

She'd investigated and even met plenty of people who could have been spokesmen for inmates of Belle Reeve, but no matter how many mentally unstable people she learned about, she still cringed at the depth of human evil. _Meteor rocks or not, people are crazy._

For the most part, the house looked normal. Pictures of the murdered couple hung across one wall in the living room, and the other wall held a flat screen TV. Chloe whistled softly at the size of the screen, mentally adding burglary to the list of possible motives.

She made her way down the hallway, careful to not run into anything and leave her presence. She was pretty sure the police had already swept the area, but she didn't need to leave behind any trace of herself, incase they wanted another run-through.

As she reached the door to what she assumed was the bedroom, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up in anticipation. This was one part of investigating she both loved and despised. The anticipation of a story was intoxicatingly exciting, but it also sent chills down her spin. And not the good kind.

Again, she ducked under a new set of police tape and walked into the bedroom. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the blood-speckled carpet and she cringed, pulling her gaze away. The blood would be last on her list of things to investigate. Right now, she needed to search the room for clues the police had missed— or failed to fill her in on. She had learned years before that the police weren't necessarily bad at investigating a crime scene. It was more the fact that they preferred not to tell reporters everything they found.

So, she was forced to find the evidence herself.

The chills picked up as she stepped towards the bed, giving her pause. She wasn't so seasoned that a murder story wouldn't put her on edge, but what she was feeling wasn't nerves.

She turned, sensing something behind her.

"Oh crap…"

_

* * *

_

Five hours earlier…

"The women in this town are _so_ friendly," Dean announced, as he entered the hotel. He wagged his eyebrows at Sam and dumped his bag of groceries on the table.

"Good to know," Sam replied, although he couldn't help but smirk at Dean's expression.

Dean shrugged out of his coat and tossed it on his bed. "So, did you figure out more on the murder victims?"

"Yeah, some." Sam watched as Dean pulled the groceries out of the bag and placed them along the counter, then turned back to his information. "Adam and Lacy Peterson. Married in 2004, no kids, no pets, no debt." Sam glanced up from the computer screen, making sure his brother was paying attention.

"They sound exciting."

"Yeah." Sam paused as Dean moved to sit next to him. Reading over the information Sam had printed off. "I've already checked out the house and the family. No history of any murders anywhere."

Dean looked at Sam. "So, cursed object?"

Sam nodded. "I think so."

"Brings back good times, eh Sammy?" Dean teased, leaning back in his chair.

Sam rolled his eyes, ignoring his brother's comment. He really didn't want to talk about Sarah. Especially not with Dean. "So, we should probably check out the house."

Dean nodded, smirking at Sam's sidestep of his question. "Yeah, let's head out tonight."

* * *

Chloe barely allowed herself a moment of frozen fear, before she spun on her heal and fled the room, mentally cursing as she ducked under the police tape. Ghost? What was a ghost doing in 'Pleasantville'?

This was supposed to be a psychotic murder mystery, not a supernatural one.

_Less thinking, more running, Sullivan._ Chloe silently berated as she hurried to the front door. The chills she'd felt earlier were a hundred times as strong, and she shivered as she reached for the door handle.

"No!" she cried, as the door refused to move. "Help!"

She turned and screamed. The pale figure of a man was hovering at the other end of the entryway as if waiting for her to move. The ax in its hand swung gently in anticipation.

_I'm gonna die._ She realized, as she ducked into the living room, looking for anything she could use as a weapon. _Ghost, Chloe. Means you can't hit it._

Without meaning too, she trapped herself against a wall, turning around to see the ghost appear in front of her. It raised its ax and she distantly thought to scream for Clark, but she couldn't get her voice to work anymore. Instead, she flinched, waiting for the pain.

Before it could come, she heard the sound of splintering wood and opened her eyes in time to see a dark figure burst into the room.

"Duck!" it ordered, and she was all too happy to comply, dropping to the floor in a heap.

A shot rang out and she shrieked, before realizing the ghost had disappeared. _What the…_

"Come on," the same voice ordered. A hand grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the house without giving her a chance to argue.

Once she was outside, she dropped to her knees, catching her breath as if she'd just run a marathon. _I wonder if this is what the Winchesters deal with—_ she stopped mid-thought, something finally connecting.

"Dean?" she asked, looking up from her spot in the grass. The yard was empty, she was alone. "Dean!" she called, knowing she hadn't imagined him.

She stood, moving to look through the front door. She could hear noise inside, but couldn't make out specific voices. A moment later, the older Winchester came running out the front door with his brother in tow.

"Dean? Sam? Are you guys okay?" As soon as the question left her mouth she knew sounded stupid, but she couldn't help it.

Dean looked up and for the second time that night Chloe felt chills. She'd seen Dean glare before, but the look he was giving her made her want to cry. Instead of answering, he shot Sam a look then moved past them to the Impala.

Chloe watched him go, wondering what she'd done wrong. Wasn't this the part where she thanked them profusely and he gloated about how good he was?

"Sam?" she asked carefully, afraid the younger brother might give her the same cold treatment.

Sam met her gaze briefly, then looked back at the Impala and Dean. "Follow us," he said.

* * *

"She messed up our investigation!" Dean slammed his hand against his steering wheel as he drove back to the hotel. He had to get all his physical anger out of the way, because he had a feeling he was going to be tempted to smack Chloe over the head next time he saw her. How could she have been so stupid?

"That's not why you're mad," Sam stated.

"Yeah? Then why am I mad Sam?"

"Because Chloe almost got hurt."

"_And _she screwed up our investigation. Instead of going in and figuring this murder out we had to save her ass first," Dean argued, pulling up to their hotel.

"Whatever, dude," Sam said as he stepped out of the Impala.

Chloe pulled into the spot next to them, but Dean ignored her, moving to unlock their room. Sam could play the good-guy tonight, because there was no way Dean was going to. As soon as he walked into the room, he tossed his keys and coat on the nearest surface and headed for the bathroom. A small part of him knew he was just prolonging the inevitable, but he didn't care.

"Have a seat," Sam said as he and Chloe walked in.

Dean splashed his face with cold water, less in an attempt to cool-off and more to stay calm. He knew if he was too on-edge Chloe would bolt before he could explain anything to her. _So stupid!_ He thought once again, before glaring at his reflection and walking out of the bathroom.

Chloe looked up hesitantly when Dean approached. Sam caught his gaze, silently warning him to go easy. _Yeah, yeah._

"What were you doing there?" he asked finally, his tone stressed as he resisted the urge to yell.

"Investigating the murder for a story."

"At night?"

"Yeah." Chloe suddenly looked annoyed as if she'd realized she was about to be lectured. It was obvious she wasn't one to take criticism well.

"And you didn't think it might be, _dangerous_?" Dean's voice rose at the last word, his annoyance rearing it's ugly head.

Chloe stood. "Of course, but it's my job. Most of the stories I investigate are dangerous."

"Then get a different job."

"Why? I can handle the danger." Chloe crossed her arms glaring at him defiantly.

Dean glared back. "Like you handled it tonight?" he demanded, mockingly.

Chloe's cheeks reddened, but Dean guessed it was more anger than embarrassment. "I had it under control."

"Oh really? That's not what it looked like from where I was."

"Then get your eyes checked."

"Don't put yourself in danger."

"Like you care!" Chloe snapped. Her face fell as soon as the words left her mouth.

"Of course I do." Dean looked over at his brother who was watching the exchange hesitantly. Why he hadn't stepped in yet was beyond Dean. "I—_we_," he amended, gesturing to Sam, "don't want anything to happen to you."

"Well you've got a funny way of showing it."

"You mean saving your ass wasn't good enough for ya?"

"You know what? I don't need this." Chloe grabbed her bag from the floor and turned to the door. As she opened it, she turned to the younger sibling. "Goodnight, Sam."

"Chloe— " Sam started, but it was half-hearted and she was out the door before he could say more.

He turned and glared at Dean.

"Nice going."

* * *

Sam shook his head as he walked into the _Daily Planet_ office. Why was it that he always had to clean up Dean's messes? He'd spent a good chunk of the previous night, calming Dean down and getting him to remember that it hadn't been all that long ago when he'd liked Chloe enough to confess his deal to her. That she was same girl they had gotten into the habit of calling, however irregularly, to check-up on and connect with someone outside the hunting world.

He understood Dean's annoyance. Under any other circumstance, Sam would have been just as annoyed. But of all the people they'd met, Chloe was one of the few non-hunters who actually spoke the truth when she said she could take care of herself. Sam had no doubt that she was resourceful enough to get herself out of most dangerous situations.

Too bad Dean had been too irritated to think like Sam had. All Dean had seen was Chloe in over her head facing down a ghost and his protectiveness had gone into overdrive. Unfortunately, his protectiveness could come off as condescending sometimes.

_At least he means well._ Sam thought, spotting the blonde reporter.

"Hey Sam," Chloe greeted without looking up. Her face was trained on the computer screen in front of her, obviously in the middle of something important.

"Hi," Sam said, watching in fascination as she typed. The look on her face rivaled the ones he and Dean wore when concentrating on a hunt.

"So, did Dean send you or are you playing peace maker by your own choice?" She finally pulled away from the computer with a smile, silently letting him know she was in a much better mood than the night before.

"Both, actually."

Chloe raised an eyebrow. "Really? Dean sent you?"

"We need to talk and Dean didn't want to leave the hotel."

"Oh." Chloe nodded, looking slightly disappointed as if she'd been hoping for an apology. "Let me save this and I'll head out with you."

"Chloe…" Sam started, touching her shoulder.

She smiled. "I know. He means well, right?"

"Completely."

* * *

Dean paused mid-pace as the hotel door opened, and Sam and Chloe walked in. His guard went up as soon as he saw the reporter. In response, she hesitated at the door. Neither spoke for a moment, Sam looking between the two of them like a tennis match.

Dean really hated moments like this. There was no way he was going to apologize, but he knew if he didn't say anything she'd get angry again. Instead he gave the woman in front of him a small smile, briefly wondering if he was going to regret this decision later. "What do you know about ghosts?" he asked carefully.

Chloe shrugged. "Not much, unfortunately."

Dean looked at his brother who nodded with understanding. "Want to learn more?"

The responding smile melted the remaining unease he felt as he and Sam told her all they knew about repelling spirits. If he had anything to say about it, she'd never need to use the information, but at least next time she could protect herself— incase he wasn't around.

To Be Continued…


	11. Rough Teamwork

"How could she just disappear like that?" Dean snapped, tossing his bag on his bed.

Sam didn't respond, just moved past Dean to claim his own bed. He looked about as tired as Dean felt, probably more so considering what he had gone through recently at the Mystery Spot. He still didn't know the details about his brother's encounter with the Trickster, but from the looks Sam gave him— not counting the hug— it was obvious the encounter had been hard.

Ever since the events at Mystery Spot, he and Sam had spent all their energy trying to track down Bela. As soon as he found her, Dean was going to shoot her then take a vacation. Maybe he'd finally head over to Atlantic City.

"Maybe Bobby or Chloe have had better luck," Sam suggested, untying his boots as he sat at the edge of his bed.

"Maybe," Dean agreed. Sam had been the one to suggest they get Chloe's help finding Bela. And Dean had surprised him by agreeing. He had no problem with Chloe researching for them. She was good at it, and they could use all the help they could get. If he had his way, she would never have to deal with the supernatural, but— as she'd proven previously— she was going to encounter supernatural trouble even when she wasn't looking for it. Dean knew he could keep worrying about her, or he could just accept the fact that she could take care of herself and let her help out.

Taking its cue, Dean's phone ran from inside his pocket. He glanced at the caller ID and gave his brother a hopeful look. "Tell me something good, Chloe," he said, answering.

"I think I found something."

* * *

"So Chloe thinks Bela's in there?" Dean asked as the Impala pulled past the dark, tree covered lot.

Sam nodded, although his brother wasn't looking at him "Yeah. She said she tracked down large amounts of money exchanging hands here. It might not be Bela, but we could at least check it out. It's the closest lead we've had so far."

"Maybe she already sold the Colt and whoever's in there has it."

"Maybe…"

Dean pulled the Impala to a stop about a block down from the house.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

Together, the brothers stepped out of the car and hurried towards the house, their guns safely tucked into their waistband. As they reached their destination, Sam slowed, sensing someone in the shadows. He pulled his gun out and glanced at Dean, who'd slowed too.

The street and yard were dark, making it hard to spot anything clearly, but as Sam watched from behind a thick oak, he knew he saw a small frame of a person move between some trees.

_No way._ Sam glanced at his brother, wondering if Dean had seen the same thing. As if in response, Dean walked out from behind his own tree and marched towards the figure. Even in the dark, Sam could see the frown on his face.

Sam kept his gun out as he followed close behind— he was going to need some way to defend them when Dean gave away their position by yelling.

As soon as they reached Chloe, she turned calmly, proving that she'd been watching them. "What the hell are you doing here?" Dean asked, his voice quiet, but harsh.

"Don't you dare try playing my keeper again, Dean," Chloe snapped back, in a sharp whisper. "This isn't a hunt and if I'm right, you're going to need my help."

"We don't need your help."

"Yeah? How do you plan on getting the Colt back? Threaten her?"

"If it helps, yes."

"Trust me, people like Bela don't respond to threats."

Sam cut in, sensing his brother's anger— and just as likely his tone— rising. "Chloe it's dangerous."

"Yeah, I got that, but I know what I'm doing." Chloe pulled back her coat revealing a pistol holstered to her hip. "If Bela's in there, you're going to need more than fire power to get the Colt. I've got something to trade for."

Sam looked back at the house anxiously. They were wasting time arguing. "Okay," he said.

Dean looked at him then back at Chloe. "Fine."

* * *

As the Winchesters prepped to sneak into the house, Chloe started doubting her decision to help them. She could practically feel Dean's annoyance seeping from him as he took his position in front of her.

She'd met her share of protective men, but the Winchester brothers— especially Dean— took the prize. She knew it was mainly because she'd never teamed up with them. They had read and searched up on her, but they still weren't willing to trust her capabilities until they saw her in action. And so far, her performance had been questionable. _I really hate ghosts._ Chloe thought, remembering the last 'hunt' she'd been on.

Sam and Dean had been sure to fill her in on everything she'd need to protect herself from another ghostly attack. Judging from the look Dean had given her, though, it was obvious the boys still didn't trust her on a hunt. But this wasn't a hunt _and_ they were going to need her. She knew they would.

As if reading her thoughts, Dean glanced back at her with a stern look. "Stay close," he ordered.

Chloe nodded, resting a hand over her coat, unconsciously reminding herself that the gun was still there. She still wasn't completely comfortable with the pistol, but she knew she was safer with it than her mace. She didn't have to just worry about a mugger here. She had to worry about a trained gunman.

Luckily for her, she had a cousin who had been trained by an Army General. Lois had been more than happy to train Chloe on gun use, knowing the kind of trouble the younger cousin tended to get into.

_Maybe I should have explained my training to the guys first._ Chloe mused, as she followed Dean to the dark house. She felt Sam take up position behind her and was torn between rolling her eyes and smiling. Even if she didn't think she needed it, it was nice to have the guys protecting her.

* * *

Sam carefully stepped into the house, following Dean and Chloe. Normally, all his attention would have been focused on the room in front of him: making sure no one was going to jump out at them. But with Chloe around, he felt his attention split between surveying the room and making sure the reporter didn't blow their cover.

He had to hand it to her, though, so far she hadn't made a peep. Even her steps were soft, barely noticeable. It made him wonder how many times she'd snuck into a room uninvited.

Up ahead, Sam noticed a flickering light underneath a door. He saw Dean pause, knowing his brother had caught the light too. His brother looked back at him, silently asking for permission to move forward. Dean thought they were in the clear, but he needed Sam's agreement.

Sam almost nodded, but stopped himself. Something was off. Instinctively, he grabbed Chloe's arm and pushed her behind him, against a wall. She didn't argue, just moved with him.

Once she was guarded, he pulled out his gun, training it into a distant shadow. Someone was there, watching.

_I never should have let her come._ Sam thought as he caught sight of the figure moving across the room from him. It was hard to tell in the dark, but it looked like the person was moving in front of a doorway, probably trying to find the best position to aim for them.

Bela wasn't here. They hadn't surveyed the entire house yet, but Sam would bet money the Brit wasn't anywhere to be found. Chloe's contact had been wrong.

"Get out!" The figure barked finally making himself known verbally. Sam tensed as he saw a flash of a gun barrel. He pushed Chloe towards Dean, hoping he'd get the hint and get the two of them out of there. Chloe wasn't getting hurt on his watch, not after he'd been the one to agree to let her come with.

As if sensing his movement, the man in the shadows fired. From the sound of it, the bullet was aimed into the air, but Sam got the hint loud and clear. Even if the Colt was here, these weren't the people who were into negotiations— unless they were done with pistols. Normally, he and Dean would have been able to take the gunmen down, especially since it sounded like there was just one, maybe two men. But now they had Chloe with them.

Behind him, Sam heard Dean tell Chloe to get out. He pressed himself against the wall in an attempt to stay out of the line of fire, but still cover Chloe and Dean as they hurried to the door.

Sam cocked his gun, wordlessly warning the gunman to watch his aim. In response, another shot was fired, this time closer.

"Get out!" The voice barked again. The man sounded desperate and Sam feared what he might do. Desperate men were dangerous when they thought they were cornered.

"Sam now!" Dean barked, suddenly next to him.

His order triggered another round of shots and Sam flinched.

* * *

"Come on, come on," Chloe mumbled, watching the door she had just run from. Dean had told her to leave, practically pulling her outside, and she'd complied without an argument, but now Dean wasn't next to her and she was alone in the middle of the dark yard.

She flinched as another shot rang out, silently cursing her contact that had led her to the house. If the boys didn't make it out, she and her contact were going to have words.

"Please be okay," she whispered. At this rate, she might as well shoot the boys herself the next time she decided to go on a mission with them. Maybe her place really was behind a desk. Everyone stayed safer that way.

Before she could let herself wallow in more self-pity, the door flew open and Dean emerged, pulling Sam by the arm. Chloe wanted to ask what was wrong, but Dean cut her off.

"Go!" he barked, reaching her side.

Together, the three of them ran towards their respective cars. Chloe watched the Impala speed past her and quickly followed. She was so on edge, she hardly noticed the scenery pass by until she pulled into a motel parking lot next to the brothers.

"Is he going to be okay?" Chloe asked as they walked inside and Dean helped Sam sit on a chair.

"He was shot," Dean replied by way of answering.

"I can see that. But is he going to be okay?"

Sam cringed, gripping the chair tightly. His torso was bleeding where a bullet had caught him. Chloe didn't like the look of the wound. It reminded her too much of the bullet wound Clark had from the time he was human.

"He needs to go to the hospital," Chloe said.

"No," both brothers stated in unison. Sam's voice sounded weak, though, compared to his brother's stern tone.

Dean turned his back on Chloe, grabbing a first aid kit and pulling out a pair of scissors. He carefully helped Sam out of his coat and button-up shirt, so he was just wearing a t-shirt. Chloe watched in silence as Dean cut open the shirt instead of pulling if off and hurting his brother more.

As he worked, Sam sat still and silent. Chloe felt like she was intruding, until she noticed Sam begin to pale and caught a good look at the wound in his chest.

"Dean, he needs help. I'm sure you're good at this, but that wound is bad."

"Chloe! You're _not _helping!" Dean snapped, but Chloe caught something in his tone. He was worried.

Chloe watched Sam's face continue to pale and took a tentative step forward. She knew she'd told Clark she'd be more careful with her powers, but what good was her gift if she didn't use it to help people she cared for. And as scary as the thought was, she knew she cared for the Winchesters.

She wasn't going to watch Sam die and not do anything about it.

"Back up," she ordered Dean, surprising herself with her forceful tone.

Dean looked up and seemed to sense her meaning right away. "No, Chloe."

"Dean, if I don't your brother's going to die. Now, shut up and let me heal him." She pushed past him and stepped towards Sam, who looked ready to pass out from blood loss. He barely blinked as she approached.

"Chloe…" Dean started, reaching to grab her shoulder.

She looked at him. "Please, Dean," she asked softly. "Trust me."

Dean looked at his brother then back at Chloe and nodded finally.

* * *

Dean stepped towards his brother as Chloe did. He'd seen Chloe heal Sam before, but that'd been different. An injured fingernail was nothing like a bullet wound to the chest.

Chloe reached out, holding her hand inches from Sam's exposed chest. After a second, her hand began to glow.

Dean kept his eyes on Sam's chest. It was hard to see because of the glow Chloe was emitting, but he thought he saw the wound healing itself. Sam's pale face gained back color and he blinked looking more alert than he had.

Finally, the glow died and Chloe pulled her hand away. Dean smiled, at Sam's newly healed chest. His brother looked like he'd never been shot— save for the blood still staining his chest and pants.

Before he could relax too much, something clicked in his brain.

"Chloe?" He turned to the small blonde, just in time to see her eyes roll back as she passed out. He cursed, shifting quickly to catch her.

"Chloe!"


	12. Patching Up

Sam watched his brother pace. He reminded him of the cartoons he had seen as a kid where a character would pace so much they'd wear a hole in the floor. Sam expected to see holes in the cheap carpet any minute. He wasn't about to stop him, though. He'd tried it once and Dean had almost ripped his head off. Literally.

So now, Sam just sat on his bed, watching Dean walk back and forth mechanically. Dean hated sitting and waiting, but at the moment that was all he could do. That was all either of them could do.

Chloe's heart had stopped beating twelve hours ago and after that neither brother had said a word— save for Sam's attempt to stop Dean's pacing. Sam couldn't help but think they were holding out hope for nothing. Part of him wanted to just accept facts and move on instead of sitting and hoping for…what? A miracle?

Chloe was dead.

Sam caught Dean's stressed expression as he turned on his heal and started another lap. Silently, he cursed the reporter for putting him in this position. He knew that if she hadn't healed him, he would be the one lying on the bed without a heartbeat, but still. It wasn't Chloe's place to save him. _That's what I have Dean for, right?_ Sam thought, frowning at his bad attempt at humor.

Sam could still remember the stress in his brother's tone as he and Chloe had fought over what to do about his bullet wound. The hospital wasn't an option, at least not right away. They were too high up on the FBI's most wanted to risk a trip to the ER. So instead, Dean had done what he always did: attempt his own surgery. Only this time it hadn't been as simple.

Sam had known as soon as he'd been hit that the wound had been bad. After years of encountering gunfire he knew when something was critical or not. That wound had definitely been critical. Which meant that by healing him, Chloe had killed herself.At first, Sam had assumed her powers would kick in and she'd be up and moving around within an hour. Too much time had passed, though. If her powers were going to kick in, they would have done so sooner. Sam guessed, she'd used up all her extra 'lives'. You couldn't keep playing with death and not expect some kind of consequences.

"I'm calling Bobby," Dean said, breaking the silence. His voice was gruff with emotion, but his face was blank. Typical Dean.

"Why?"

"So he can get ready."

Sam nodded, his heart constricting with understanding. Dean had reached the same conclusion Sam had. Chloe wasn't going to wake up, not this time. He'd call Bobby and tell him to get the pyre ready.

Sam turned back to watch Chloe, while Dean called the old hunter. Despite the number of dead bodies he'd seen over the years, seeing one of someone he cared about was unnerving. And despite the fact that he wanted to bring her back to life and curse her, he knew Chloe fell under the category of someone he cared for. Judging from the way Dean was acting, it as safe to say he felt the same way. So much for not getting attached.

_Not that it matters, she's de—_ Sam paused, something catching his eye.

"Dean!" he snapped, not moving his gaze from the body in front of him. He must be seeing things. Maybe hours of staring were finally starting to effect his eyesight.

Dean hurried to his side, the phone still against his ear. "What?"

Sam gestured to Chloe. "She's…she just…"

"Holy…" Dean backed up, reaching into his duffel bag, sitting on a dresser. He pulled out a small flask, Sam knew was full of holy water. He unscrewed the cap and stepped back towards the bed, sprinkling some of the demon repellent on Chloe's body.

To Sam's surprise, Chloe reacted, but not the way he expected.

"Knock it off," she barked, her voice rough from lack of use. Slowly she blinked and opened her eyes, glaring up at the older brother.

"Christo!" Dean spat in response.

"Same to you." Chloe grimaced as if she were dealing with a major hangover and carefully sat up, leaning against the headboard. "I'm not possessed, Dean."

Sam watched the exchange in fascination. It went against all his instincts as a hunter to just sit and watch as someone came back to life. He should be spouting off some Latin or at the very least pulling out his gun, but he wasn't. She was a meteor freak after all. He must have been wrong about her power's limits, because she definitely wasn't possessed.

Dean turned to Sam, his face still set in hunter-mode. "Did you make a deal?"

Sam shook his head. "When would I have made a deal, Dean?"

"I don't know," Dean stated. "All I know is you're supposed to be dead." He pointed the flask at Chloe as if the water inside could still do some damage.

"Sorry to disappoint," Chloe replied. She turned, resting her legs on the floor so her knees brushed against Sam's legs. "How's your chest?"

"Fine."

"Good."

"Chloe," Dean started, his tone sharp. "What the hell is going on?"

Chloe rolled her eyes. It was obvious that despite her miraculous recovery, her powers were something she didn't enjoy discussing. "Do we really have to rehash how big of a freak I am again? I thought we already had this conversation."

"You told us you could heal people. You failed to mention the whole resurrection, thing."

Chloe scoffed. "What part of ending up in the morgue, didn't you understand?"

"Well you still could have warned me," Dean snapped. Sam stood, sensing that his brother's stress was hitting its peak.

"I didn't think you had such a short memory," Chloe snapped back. Dean met the blonde's gaze, the look in his eyes harsh enough to make most people cringe. Instead of looking away, though, Chloe just glared right back. Sam watched both of them, wondering why it was he always ended up in this position. When it came to arguing, Chloe was stubborn enough to be mistaken for a Winchester.

Surprising everyone in the room, Dean backed down first. He stepped back, tucking the flask into his duffel bag. "Don't _ever_ use your powers on me," he stated finally.

Chloe looked ready to respond, but the older brother cut her off with a wave of his hand, picking up his discarded phone. "Sorry, Bobby…" He stepped out of the motel room as he talked, leaving Chloe and Sam alone.

"Bobby?"

"Old friend."

"Why was Dean calling him?"

Sam swallowed, remembering the pain he'd felt moments before. "To plan your funeral."

Chloe blinked, but didn't look all that surprised. "Oh."

* * *

Dean paused before reentering the motel room. He needed to keep his emotions in check before he saw Chloe again. It bothered him that she hadn't told him about the side-effects of her powers. Never mind the fact that he knew what she was capable of. A little warning would have been nice. Besides, a couple hours was a lot less time than the half a day he'd spent watching her corpse. How was he supposed to know she didn't heal as quickly every time?And yet, he couldn't help but feel grateful that she'd risked her life for Sam's. Someone willing to risk their life for his little brother was okay by him, but he really hated being lied to— or at least, not knowing everything he needed to know.

Dean didn't regret telling Chloe about his deadline, but sometimes he wished Sam had never found out about her. They had enough on their plate already, adding a curious reporter hadn't helped matters. _Why couldn't she just stay at her desk?_

Setting his face, Dean walked into the hotel. Sam and Chloe were sitting right where he'd left them. Chloe had a glass of water in her hand, though, that Sam had probably grabbed for her.

Sam stood as Dean entered, giving Chloe a small smile before turning to his brother. "What did Bobby say?"

Chloe looked up at his question, obviously eager to hear the answer. Dean had realized while still on the phone with the old hunter that he could give away Chloe's secret depending on what he said. And as annoyed as he'd been, her powers were not his secret to tell. Luckily for him, he'd never been given the opportunity to say anything. Bobby didn't want details if they weren't important.

"To keep him posted."

Chloe looked startled. "You didn't…?"

"No. I didn't," he said simply.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me, just stop putting yourself in danger."

"Dean…" Sam started, his tone warning him to watch his words.

"I wasn't in danger," Chloe argued.Dean glared. "You can't mess around with death like that and expect everything to be okay. Trust me."Chloe sighed. "I make no promises."

Dean rolled his eyes. That was as close as he was going to get, but considering the stubborn streak that ran through her, he was happy to even get that.

"Fine."

* * *

Chloe smiled to herself as the information appeared on her computer screen. _Gotcha._ After the bad lead a few days prior, Chloe had spent most of her time trying to correctly track down Bela. She knew the boys didn't blame her for the bad lead, but after everything that had happened she felt required to get them the information they needed.

She picked up her phone, dialing Dean's number by heart.

The hunter picked up after two rings. "Hello?"

"Dean, it's Chloe. I think I've found her."

"Yeah? Where?"

Chloe felt herself relax a little at his question. She may have angered him before, but he was still willing to trust her research.

"She's in Monument, Colorado." Chloe paused giving him a moment to write down the information if he needed.

"Thanks Chloe."

"You're welcome."

"You're not going to show up this time are you?"

Chloe smirked. "No. I'll sit this one out. Just keep me posted."

"Sure."

"And stay safe. Make sure Sam doesn't get himself shot again." She tried to keep her tone light, but the order came out strained. She was worried and she'd never been very good at hiding her worry.

"We'll be fine."

* * *

Sam looked at Dean, his hand reaching for his gun. The older brother nodded, silently counting down. Sam followed mentally, grabbing the door handle once they both hit three.

He hurried inside, gun drawn, his brother right behind him. This wasn't the first time they'd stormed into a room, but they both made sure not to be careless.

As Sam checked the rest of the hotel room, Dean moved on to the dresser. Bela wasn't in, but maybe the Colt still was.

"Any sign of it?"

"No. Sure this is Bela's room?"

"I'd say so."

Both brother's turned as the phone took its cue. Careful not to touch too much of the phone and leave a lot of fingerprints to clean up, Dean answered. His brother watching anxiously.

"Dean? Sweetie are you there?"

"Where are you?"

"Two states away by now."

"Where?"

"Where's our usual quipy banter? I miss it."

"I want it back, Bela. Now."

"Your little pistol, you mean? Sorry, I can't at the moment."

"You understand how many people are going to die if you do this?"

"What exactly is it that you think I plan to do with it?"

"Take the only weapon we have against an army of demons and sell it to the highest bidder."

"You know nothing about me."

"I know I'm gonna stop you."

"Tough words for a guy who can't even find me."

"Oh I'll find you sweetheart. You know why? Because I have absolutely nothing better to do than to track you down." _And I've got Chloe Sullivan on my side, who's getting closer to you every time._

"That's where you're wrong. You're about to be quite occupied. Did you really think I wouldn't take precautions?"

To Be Continued…


	13. Without Them

_Explosion at Monument Police Station Kills Eight_

Chloe blinked, feeling stunned. She'd thought the brothers were in trouble, but she'd never imagined it would be this bad. Swallowing her fear, she clicked for the full story, praying for some proof the Winchesters weren't among the victims.

…_Authorities are uncertain of the cause, but some believe a gas leak may be the reason for the deadly explosion. _

…_Only hours after Agent Hendrickson and his team reportedly captured two deadly criminals in the area, Dean and Samuel Winchester._

…_No survivors._

"No…"

* * *

Chloe resisted the urge to sigh as she stepped out of her car. She knew Clark had heard her pull up and she had a feeling he was listening to her approach. She wanted to find Brainiac just as much as Clark did, but after learning about the Winchesters' fate, she was struggling to keep her head in the game.She'd spent two days leaving messages on both Dean's phone and Sam's phone, hoping they'd somehow escaped the blast, but there had been no response. Their answering machine's hadn't even changed, which they usually did regularly, she guessed as a way to keep people off their trail if their numbers got out.

_Who knew their death would effect me this much?_ She mused, attempting to lighten her mood before reaching Clark. If he was paying enough attention, she knew he'd be able read the emotions on her face. She'd never been very good at hiding her feelings in front of Clark.

"Chloe?"

"Who'd you think it was?" Chloe teased as she ascended the stairs to Clark's loft.

Clark paused, giving her a small smile. "You."

"Good guess."

"So, did you find anything?"

Chloe shook her head, wishing she had better news. Someone deserved to hear good news today. "Sorry, Clark. I haven't been able to find anything."

"Kara thinks we should look for energy spikes. She thinks Brainiac might be using energy sources to reboot."

Chloe nodded. "That makes sense. Maybe I can talk to the Department of Water and Power. I probably have a source there I can hit-up. Or at the very least I can just sweet talk my way in."

"When?"

Chloe shrugged. "Tomorrow? Anyone I could call would be shut down at this point, but I'll call them first thing tomorrow morning."

"Good. I need to find him. He's not after me anymore. He's now after Kara. I can't let him hurt her."

Chloe nodded, looking down at her hands. "She'll be fine." She swallowed, feeling a lump in her throat. It was _her_ fault the brothers had been in Monument. She held some blame for their death.

"Chloe?" Clark asked, stepping towards her. "Are you okay?"

Chloe looked up, giving him a small smile. "Fine, Clark."

Clark studied her, looking skeptical. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

"Yeah, I know. But I'm fine. Really."

* * *

"Good news, Chlo'," Jimmy announced as he walked inside their apartment. He was smiling like he'd just won a Pulitzer, but Chloe doubted it was that exciting. He tended to get happy just earning an assignment lately. With Lex in charge, stories had been few and far between.

"You and Lois got a story that Lex is actually going to let you publish?" she guessed, ignoring the small bit of jealousy that welled up at the mention of her boyfriend and her cousin working together. She really couldn't blame them. Jimmy needed to work and she was never around for him to team up with. If he couldn't team up with one cousin why not go for the other one? "Yeah right. That's never going to happen."

"Never say never," Chloe mused. "So what's the good news?"

"Well, since I am currently story-less I thought we could do something together. Maybe head into Metropolis, see what's up." Jimmy smiled hopefully.

Chloe smiled back. Normally she would have jumped at the chance to just be with Jimmy, especially since she didn't have any other obligations. So far, Ollie hadn't called for any help and, besides still tracking down Brainiac and Kara, Clark didn't need her either.

But now, the idea of heading out for a night of Olsen-approved fun, just didn't sound exciting.

"I can't."

Jimmy blinked, looking confused. "Can't? Did Clark call?"

Chloe shook her head. "No. This has nothing to do with Clark. I just can't." She paused, fingering the charm in her pocket. "Can we stay in tonight?"

Jimmy studied her, much like Clark had done. "Is everything okay, Chloe?"

"Yeah," Chloe said, quickly. "I'm just tired. Let's just sit and watch some of those old Noir movies you love so much."

Jimmy nodded, although he still looked like was trying to read her thoughts. "Okay, let me go put my stuff down."

Chloe continued to finger the charm, until Jimmy returned, holding a movie in one hand and blanket in the other. "Ready?"

Chloe couldn't help but smile at his goofy grin. His plans may not have worked, but it was obvious he still enjoyed being with her. It was a good feeling. "Yep."

Jimmy put the movie in and returned to the couch, settling in before pulling her over so she could lean against him. He laid the blanket over her, pulling her close as the film started. "Are you sure you're okay?" He asked into her hair as she settled herself. He wrapped an arm around her, his hand moving to hold hers.

"Yeah, Jimmy, I'm— "

"What's this?" he asked, cutting her off. He pulled out his hand, showing her the small charm she'd had in her hand moments before. It must have fallen as she'd grabbed his hand.

"It's a charm."

Jimmy smirked. "I can see that Chlo'. Where did you get it?"

"A friend. It's for protection." She reached over and took the small charm back, slipping it into her pocket. She needed to remember to get a bracelet for it soon.

"Protection? From what?"

Chloe smiled softly, knowing she might as well tell the truth. He was never going to believe it anyway. "Demons."

"O-kay."

"You can never be too careful," Chloe said by way of explaining. She pulled the blanket over her shoulder and leaned back into Jimmy. "They were just looking out for me."

* * *

Chloe leaned against Clark's desk, trying to keep herself calm. After the eventful night before, with Lionel's death and the attack on Lana, she needed to be extra careful she stayed calm for Clark.

She felt like her world was crumbling in, but she knew Clark needed her. He wouldn't understand her falling apart, especially since he knew nothing about the Winchesters. He had no idea that it had been almost a week since she'd last talked to Dean or that, just yesterday, she'd finally stopped expecting him to call her back, because people can't call when they're dead.

"Clark…"

"Jor-el died getting me on that ship. My dad died of a heart attack from the powers he took on protecting me. Now Lionel's been murdered for protecting my secret."

Chloe stepped forward, as Clark spoke, closing the distance between them. What was she supposed to say? She'd run out of ways to tell him things weren't his fault. He no longer believed it.

She knew that he knew deep down it wasn't his fault. He may have been involved in a way with the deaths of those three men, but realistically their deaths could not be blamed on him. But after realizing another person had died for him, his guilt was making him blind to the truth.

And she couldn't help but relate to him on some level. Wasn't it her fault the Winchesters had been in Monument, Colorado? She was the one who'd told them where to find Bela. If she had stayed out of it maybe they'd still be alive.

She shook her head forcing herself to focus. Clark needed her. It wasn't time for a pity-party. "They did die for you, Clark, but ultimately they died for all of us. There was a reason those men were in your life. Each of them added something to the man that you are today."

Clark still wouldn't face her. "How could Lex have done it? How does a son murder his own father?"

"Total absence of love. Some say that's the definition of evil. You have to get those keys away from Lex, Clark, before he kills anyone else."

"He's not going to have the chance." Clark finally turned to face her. "I won't let him."

Chloe nodded, feeling relieved. Unconsciously, she continued to finger the charm in her pocket.

* * *

Chloe tossed her bag on the kitchen counter and locked the door behind her as she walked inside. She wished she could lock out her thoughts just as easily. Her mind had been a mess for a few days and now with Lionel's death, her new jobless status and Lana's condition, she felt ready to break.

So she did.

She barely made it too her side of the apartment before the tears fell. And she didn't bother stopping them.

She needed this. Later, she'd collect herself and deal with things rationally. But now, she needed to let everything out.

"I'm sorry," she whispered— unsure of who she was saying it to— as she held her charm.

"I'm sorry..."

To Be Continued…


	14. Broken Reconnection

"Did the boxes come?"

Chloe looked behind her at the stacks of boxes Oliver had recently shipped to Metropolis. "Yeah, and I've got the lack of elbow room to prove it. What happened to your swanky apartment in the clock tower?"

She could hear Oliver sigh on the other end. "I would leave the stuff there, but I don't need anyone snooping around and finding anything."

"And no one's going to come snooping in the Isis foundation?"

"I know you'll keep it safe."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. That's me, trusty sidekick."

"Exactly."

Chloe made a mental note to smack Oliver upside his gorgeous face next time she saw him. "So, since I'm playing guard dog for all your crap— "

"Hey!"

"— I was wondering if you could do me a favor," Chloe continued, ignoring his exclamation.

Oliver paused, as if he'd really been offended, but she knew his confidence was too big to let her teasing break it. "Sure, what do you need."

"I was wondering if you could track someone down for me. A Bela Talbot."

"Bela Talbot? Why are you looking for her?"

"Do you know her?" Chloe asked, surprised by his reaction.

"Well no. Although her name sounds familiar."

"She likes to rub elbows with the rich and richer."

"Oh," he paused and she heard the phone move as if he were pulling it from his mouth. There was a hushed conversation in the background and she thought she caught A.C.'s voice. "Hey listen, Watchtower, I've gotta go, but I'll look into Bela."

"Thanks." She disconnected without waiting for his response, feeling a little better than she had the week before. Maybe with Oliver's help she'd be a step closer to finding Bela. It might not do any good now, considering the people who'd originally been after her were dead, but she'd promised to track her down and she was determined to come through on her promise.

And maybe once she found the Brit Oliver and the boys could give her a little scare.

* * *

It took six hours, and about seven passwords to get Dean's phone record. Apparently the guy had learned how to cover his tracks somewhere. Once she finally had the records open, she was surprised by what she found.

There were no outgoing calls, obviously (although part of her had been hoping for some), but there was one number, aside from her own, that had called Dean four times since the police station explosion.

It took a little longer to trace the number back to a Robert Singer. Chloe guessed this was the "Bobby" the brothers had talked about during their last conversation.

Unsure what she could actually say to the man, she picked up the phone and dialed his number, only to get his answering machine. Losing her nerve, she hung up. She had no idea what to say which made it harder than usual to think of a message.

Maybe she could track him down and speak to him face-to-face? With a determined frown, she returned to her computer.

* * *

"Singer Salvage? Sounds cozy," Chloe mused as she pulled into the salvage yard. Cars were in piles all along the yard as she pulled up to the house. The old house looked almost as bad as the broken cars surrounding it. It made her wonder about the man she was about to meet. She had a feeling he was as rough as the surroundings. Probably a hunter, or at least a close friend of one.

By the time she reached the front door, she was ready to turn and bolt back to her car. She wasn't afraid of the man that was behind the door. If he was a friend of Sam and Dean's he wouldn't be too bad, but she was starting to doubt her plan to talk to him. If his constant phone calls to Dean were any indication, he probably didn't know of their deaths, and she wasn't sure he'd want to talk to her after she broke the news.

But she needed to try. She needed to find Bela, and even with Oliver on the hunt she had a feeling it would take a while to track her down. If she could have someone on her side who knew the hunting world better than Oliver, her chances of finding the thief were greater.

Swallowing her uncertainty, she knocked, waiting a beat to listen for footsteps. A moment later, the door opened and a gruff looking man in a trucker hat stood in front of her. She was surprised by his appearance at first, but then remembered Dean's stubble and Sam's world-weary stare, and realized this was what the brothers might have looked like years down the road.

"Can I help you?" Bobby asked.

Chloe nodded, swallowing her hesitation. "I hope so. My name's Chloe Sullivan, I was friends with the Winchesters." "Chloe Sullivan?"

Chloe almost smirked at his question. He didn't seem confused by her name, more surprised that he was actually meeting her. "You've heard of me?"

"The boys told me about you. You're the one who had been helping them track down Bela." Bobby's tone was a mixture of pride and hesitation. It was obvious he didn't trust people just because the Winchesters said they were okay. Despite his hesitation, he stepped back, letting her in the house. She noticed him eye her as she walked inside, but didn't ask. She didn't know what she could do to ease his mind, so she did nothing.

"Actually, Bela's who I came here to talk to you about. I need your help tracking her down," Chloe said, feeling slightly relieved when she heard his use of the past tense.

"But Chloe— " Bobby started, before Chloe cut him off, guessing where he was going.

"I know," she said quickly, "the guys died in that police station explosion. But I need to find her. It's my fault they were there in the first place. It won't bring them back, but," she shrugged helplessly, "it'll make me feel better."

Bobby looked startled and Chloe realized she may have been wrong in assuming he knew about the brothers' fate. She silently cursed herself for jumping to conclusions. That was probably the worst way to find out friends had just died. "I'm sorry…" she started lamely.

Bobby shook his head. "Chloe, I think there's been a mistake," he said, pausing as a car rumbled into the driveway.

Chloe glanced back, knowing the familiar rumble without having to look. _Who was driving their car?_ She wondered stepping outside. Bobby followed. As soon as she caught a glimpse of the Impala's passengers she felt sick. Her mind ran through a million scenarios, ranging from ghost and zombie, to meteor-rocks. When she saw the startled look on the brothers' faces, though, she realized what had really happened.

They'd never died.

"You guys look good for victims of a massive explosion," she snarked, her defenses going up instantly.

Dean smiled. "Thanks."

Chloe glared in response. "Yeah, well thanks for the heads up. I thought you were dead," she winced as her voice broke a little.

If Dean noticed, he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he stepped closer to her, his expression telling her he was just as upset as she was. "Maybe we wanted to keep it that way?"

Chloe blanched. "Why?"

"To keep you safe," Sam replied, as if attempting to pull her anger away from the oldest brother.

Chloe didn't take the bait. She knew any plan like this came from Dean. It was his idea, it had to have been. "And how is lying to me about your deaths keeping me safe?"

"Hey," Dean argued. "We didn't lie."

"Yeah, well you didn't call me and let me know you were okay, either. You knew I'd learn about the explosion. You _knew_ I'd think you were dead. How could you do that to me!" She clenched a fist, willing herself to calm down. The last thing she needed to do was cry in front of Dean.

"You wanna know why?" Dean snapped, taking another step towards her. "I just found out we're number one on the Demon's Most Wanted list. Which means every demon is gunning for us. And they won't hesitate before running you over if you stand in their way."

"Then I won't stand in their way," Chloe said, glaring at Dean. She didn't mean it and they both knew it.

"Good," Dean replied.

Chloe threw up her hands. "You can't keep doing this to me Dean. We can't have this argument every time we see each other. Either you let me help you or you don't, but pulling this back and forth crap isn't fair."

"Fine! Don't help us," Dean barked.

Chloe blinked in surprise, before her anger returned. After everything he was just going to dismiss her like that? "Go to Hell," she spat, instantly regretting the words. Before she could think of apologizing, she turned and marched back to her car, not surprised when no one followed.

* * *

Sam watched Chloe go, shaking his head. He'd known this would happen. He'd known he and Dean wouldn't have been able to keep up their "death" for long. Not with Chloe Sullivan looking after them.

"It's a wonder you two have any friends," Bobby remarked, once her car sped out of his driveway.

"We don't," Dean said, still watching the spot where her car had been.

"I doubt that." Bobby pointed to where Dean was looking. "Do you know what that girl was here for?"

"What?"

"To find Bela and the Colt, even though you two were 'dead'." He shook his head. "With the way you treat her, though, I'm surprised she even cared enough to keep fighting."

Dean looked down, guilty. "That's the problem."

"Yeah, well get over it. People like her don't drop into your lives every day. Besides, she may be useful."

To Be Continued…


	15. Rekindling Apologies

"Have you called her yet?" Sam asked as Dean walked into their motel room.

Dean looked up, confused. "Called who?"

"You know who."

Dean shook his head, walking over to Sam. "I'm not calling her."

"Why not?"

"You know why."

"Oh come on, Dean. This is stupid. You don't have much time."

"Maybe that's why I don't want to call her. What good is it going to do? We'll make up, and then a month later I'll be dead."

Sam looked down at Dean's words. He hated talking about his brother's deadline as a definite thing. He needed to believe he'd get his brother out of it. "Well, maybe I want her around."

"Then you call her."

Sam shook his head. "I'm not the one who pissed her off."

Dean sighed. "Fine, but the moment she starts talking about feelings I'm sending her your way."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Sure."

* * *

Dean waited until Sam had gone for a food run to call Chloe. He didn't need his brother watching him as he tried to figure out what to say to the reporter. Part of him still wanted to ignore what had happened and let her stay away. He didn't need to worry about her while he was trying to save his soul. She would just be a distraction.

But, he also knew Sam and Bobby were right. She could be useful. Besides, neither of them would let it rest until he called her.

And maybe there was a part of him that wouldn't mind the distraction.

He scrolled through his phone book until he found her number. Following the days after the explosion, she had called his and Sam's phones almost religiously asking them to keep her updated. By the fourth day, she'd stopped calling and Dean had assumed she'd heard the news of the explosion.

At first he'd felt guilty letting her think they were dead, but then he'd remembered the thirty demons that had attacked them. A little lie was nothing compared to how dangerous their lives had suddenly become. Unfortunately, no one seemed to share his opinion.

"Dean?" Chloe answered, surprise evident in her tone. She had apparently underestimated Sam's ability to get him to do something.

"Hey Chloe," he said.

There was a pause, and Dean heard Chloe sigh. "Did you need something Dean?" she asked, her tone obviously attempting annoyance, but he could tell it was forced.

"We need to talk. In person."

"Okay," Chloe paused. "Where are you guys?"

"About three hours south of Erie, Pennsylvania. We're squatting in an abandoned house."

"Homey…Alright, I'll see you there."

"Just like that?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. What, you want to meet up somewhere?"

"No, but are you sure you can make it here?"

He heard Chloe laugh softly. "It's not like I have anything else to do. I'm currently unemployed after all."

"Alright. I'll see you."

When she hung up, Dean was surprised by the relief he felt. He'd never admit it aloud, but Sam had been right. He still wished he could keep her from the fight, but it felt good knowing she was still willing to talk to him.

_Careful Winchester, you're starting to act like Sammy._

* * *

Chloe stepped out her car, whistling softly at the house Dean and Sam were squatting in. "It definitely lives up to expectations," she mused. She'd seen some of the motels the brothers had stayed in, but nothing compared to the building she was now standing in front of. It was cheaper to squat than stay at a motel, though, even if they did pay for everything with stolen credit cards.

When she reached the front door she paused before knocking, wondering what he'd think of her sudden arrival. With some persuading, she'd convinced Clark to help her out, cutting her road trip down to a day's drive. But, Dean hadn't asked any questions when she'd called him from the state boarder for more directions, so she guessed she was okay. Dean was one to only ask questions if it was important to him. How she'd managed to make it to Pennsylvania from Kansas in one day was not important.

Before she could knock, the door opened and Dean smirked at her. "Were you planning on knocking sometime soon?"

Chloe smirked back. "Why should I with your great sense of hearing?"

"Good point." He stepped back, letting her pass.

"Where's Sam?" Chloe asked, taking off her coat. To her surprise, Dean took it from her, and hung it on a clean coat stand.

"Out getting food." He replied, guiding her to the room she assumed was meant to be the living room.

Chloe gave him a look. "You told him to get lost."

Dean shrugged. "I don't need him around critiquing me."

"Why would he critique you? Are you planning on quoting some sonnets for me?" Chloe teased, if Dean was going to act like they'd never fought then she was going to play along. For now at least.

"No way." Dean shook his head. He paused, looking everywhere but her, before meeting her eyes. "My deadline's coming up."

Chloe nodded, but didn't interrupt. He seemed to be working his way up to whatever he'd needed to talk to her about. _"Go to Hell."_ She resisted the urge to cringe, remembering the last thing she'd said to him. She couldn't really blame him for his hesitation. When she'd left Bobby's she'd assumed she'd never hear from the brothers again. They'd fought back and forth before, but Dean had never cut off her help completely. Not like he had at Bobby's.

"I only have four weeks left," Dean added. "So, I don't have a lot of time to…" he paused, looking uncertain again. "Look, I'm sorry I let you think we were dead."

Chloe smiled at his rushed apology. He was definitely not the caring and sharing one of the two brothers. "It's okay— " she started, but Dean cut her off.

"No, it's not. But you've gotta understand, Chloe. This job is getting more dangerous everyday. It's not just as simple as hunting down some demons anymore. We now have demons hunting _us_ down. I'm not going to let anything happen to you just because you have some strange need to be involved. I can't worry about you and my deadline _and_ these demons."

"Then stop worrying about me," Chloe said. "I told you already that I'd stay behind the scenes when helping you guys. I promise, I'm safe in Smallville…well at least from this demon war."

"I can't just stop worrying," Dean stated softly.

Chloe nodded. "Yes, you can. You've got more important things to worry about. You have to keep your brother sane while he tries to track down a way out of your deal, and you have to keep yourself safe, because I swear if you die early on me Winchester, I'll kill you."

Dean looked surprised at her words, but didn't say anything as she continued. "You aren't the only person involved in this anymore. Whether you like it or not I'm a part of this fight, too. I need to help, because with or without you, this war is going to continue and it's going to affect everyone and, because I'm not going to let you die."

"Chloe…" Dean started, looking upset by her statement.

"No Dean." Chloe shook her head, feeling just as desperate as she had when she'd tried to convince Clark to save himself. It was a strange feeling. Clark was her oldest friend and Dean was, well, Dean. Why both men brought out the same feelings was something she didn't want to think about. "You can't die. I forbid it."

* * *

Dean watched the small blonde as she spoke. He'd never admit it aloud, but it felt good to know she cared about his death even after all the fights they'd had. Good, and frightening. He saw how Sam's determination to save him was stressing him out, he didn't need another person doing to same thing for him. He wasn't worth it. There was so much more Chloe could be doing with her time.

"Well if you forbid it," he teased, attempting to lighten to mood. Chloe looked ready to cry and that was the last thing he needed.

Chloe studied him. "So, no more faked deaths?"

"Promise." Dean nodded.

Chloe smiled. "Good."

"Besides," Dean continued, "Bobby likes you, so we'd never get away with it again."

"Yeah," Chloe looked down. "Hey Dean."

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry about what I said…before."

Dean blinked, unsure about what she meant. Then he remembered: _"Go to Hell!"_ At first, her harsh comment had hurt him— more than he'd ever admit— but then he'd realized it had been a flip statement made in the heat of an argument. As the king of sharp remarks, he knew he couldn't really blame her for her words. Even if they'd hit closer to home than he'd wanted.

"Don't worry about it." He waved his hand dismissively, earning another smile from Chloe.

There was a pause and Dean wondered where they went from there. Since the day he'd met her, the trust level between them had been as irregular as his cash flow. Now, though, he knew he'd have to make good on his promises. He hadn't been lying when he'd said Bobby's involvement would mean the end of keeping her out of the loop. The older hunter apparently had a soft spot for the reporter.

Dean smirked, taking a step towards her. His smirk deepened when he saw her eyes widen. "So, is this the part where we kiss and make up?"

Before Chloe could respond, there was an exaggerated cough behind him and he turned to see Sam walk over. "I leave you alone for a minute…" he mock scolded, tossing him one of the bags he was carrying. "Hey Chloe."

Chloe smiled at the younger brother. "Hey Sam. Nice timing."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, nice timing," he groused. He opened the bag and pulled out one of the burgers inside, offering it to Chloe. "Dinner?"

* * *

Sam walked with Dean as they led Chloe to the front door. Dean had offered to let her "shack up" with them for the night, but she'd declined, telling them she had to get back to Smallville. Apparently her earlier statement of having nothing to do now that she was unemployed had been false.

"Keep in touch, okay?" Chloe said from the front of her car door. The boys stood in doorway, Dean in the house, Sam just outside.

"Yeah, you too."

Sam raised his hand to wave goodbye, but paused, sensing something off. Before he could figure out what, Chloe let out a surprised yelp as she was thrown back against her car door. Sam felt himself follow suit, an invisible force shoving him against the house's exterior. Hard.

"Sam?" Chloe asked, her tone strained as if she were trying to keep her fear in check.

He opened his mouth to respond, but stopped, noticing something in the shadows. "Dean!" he barked instead, knowing his brother had hightailed it back into the house as soon as Chloe had been thrown into her car. The salt they packed in the doorway had protected him from the demon's power.

The demon in the shadows stepped forward, his face turned up into a sneer. "Yeah Sammy, call your brother. I'd like to meet the whole family." He turned to Chloe, his sneer slipping into a smile. "And which of the Winchesters do you belong to, Gorgeous?"

"Get away from her," Sam barked.

"Oh, you're Sammy's? I would have guessed Dean."

Even in the dim light, Sam could see Chloe's face darken into a glare. "Back off," she growled. _Go Chloe._ He thought, feeling pride at the younger woman's words.

Behind the demon, Sam heard the familiar cock of a shotgun and almost smiled. "I'd listen to her," Dean drawled before firing.

To Be Continued…


	16. Evil Lessons

Chloe flinched as Dean unloaded his shotgun into the man's back. She knew the man was evil, probably a demon, but watching his body jerk from the shot was a little unnerving. As the man fell, whatever force he'd had over her fell too and she stumbled away from her car.

"Get in the house," Dean barked as Sam hurried to his brother's side.

Chloe barely nodded, before following his orders. She'd just become close, personal friends with her car. She wasn't about to stick around for a encore meeting.

Once Chloe was inside the living room, she paused, catching her breath. Outside the thin walls of the house, she could hear Dean say something sharply. She concentrated on their movement, wondering what they were doing with the man. As she listened, it slowly dawned on her that for the first time in a long time, she hadn't automatically called Clark for help. This time, she'd placed her safety in someone else's hands. It was a startling and slightly gratifying realization. She had no problem calling on Clark for help, especially since he tended to get annoyed when she didn't, but it was a good feeling to know he wasn't the only one she could rely on.

"Besides, Clark doesn't know the first thing about demons," she mused softly, hearing heavy footsteps at the front door. She moved to the doorway, as Dean and Sam carried the man's limp form inside.

"Dude weighs a ton," Dean groused, as they walked into the living room.

"Hey Chloe, get a chair for us," Sam said, shifting his hold on the guys legs.

Chloe grabbed a chair and set it near them.

"No, in the middle of that circle," Dean said, gesturing with his head to the floor. Chloe looked down and saw an oddly familiar design spray painted onto the floor. She followed his order then stepped back as they set the guy on the chair and tied him down.

"Is that a devil's trap?" Chloe asked, studying the design.

Dean looked up, impressed. "Yeah, how'd you know?"

Chloe shrugged. "Research."

"Yeah?" Dean smirked. "How much do you know about exorcising a demon?"

"Honestly? Not much. Half the stuff I found contradicted the other half. There isn't exactly a exorcism for dummies online."

"You looked online?"

"To start." Chloe smiled. "I kinda figured if it came down to it I always knew who to call for research."

Dean smiled back. "Well, I guess now is as good a time as any to teach you what I know."

"Not all, hopefully," Sam commented, curling a lip in disgust.

Chloe bit back a laugh. She didn't think Jimmy would be too pleased with _those_ kinds of lessons.

"First lesson," Dean continued, ignoring Sam. "This, as you know, is a devil's trap. If you get a demon in one they can't get out. They are powerless, or at least mostly."

"What do you mean 'mostly'?" Chloe asked carefully. She didn't like rules that came with exceptions. It left too much room for error.

"He means, don't get cocky just because you got a demon trapped," Sam supplied, giving his brother a knowing look.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Don't."

Before he could continue, the possessed man groaned as he came to. "Oh goody," Dean deadpanned. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a flask. Chloe gave him a confused look.

"The second lesson involves alcohol?" she asked.

"No. Holy water." Dean unscrewed the cap and flicked some on the demon. It twitched and screamed as if it'd been burned. "It hurts the demon, but does nothing to the host. Well, besides get it wet."

"Do I look like a test subject to you?" the demon spat, finding its voice.

"Yep," Dean said, pouring more water. He turned back to Chloe as the demon twitched. "This next part, I don't want you to repeat."

"Why? What are you going to do?" Chloe asked, looking between the brothers and the demon.

"Interrogation." Without waiting for a reply, he turned back to the demon, leaning over him with a deep glare. "What were you doing outside the house?" he snapped.

Chloe looked over at Sam, surprised by the tone in Dean's voice. Even during their worst fights he'd never used that tone. It was kind of scary. Sam just nodded, giving her a knowing look. He wasn't fazed, but he seemed to understand her reaction.

"Waiting," the demon replied.

"For what?"

"You two." It gestured to the brothers with a nod of its head.

"Why?"

The demon raised an eyebrow and laughed. "Seriously? You're asking why?" It shook its head amused. "Idiots."

In response, Dean dumped the rest of the water on him. "I want a straight answer, wise-guy. Why were you waiting for us?"

The demon grunted, attempting to shake off the water. "Because, you're the Winchesters. I get your heads on a stake, I get the bonus check."

"Bonus check?"

The demon rolled its eyes. "It's a figure of speech."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, and so is this." He looked back at Chloe. "Lesson number three."

Taking his cue, Sam stepped forward.

* * *

"You killed him?" Chloe asked as Sam reached over to untie the corpse.

Sam hated this part. It was sickening how many dead bodies he and Dean had to deal with following exorcisms. These newly released demons certainly had no problem reanimating a corpse.

"No, he was dead already."

"You mean the demon…" she trailed off, looking disgusted by the thought.

"Kinda morbid, huh?" Dean asked. As soon as the body was free, he leaned over and hefted it onto his shoulders. "Sam, door," he grunted.

Sam nodded, walking Dean to the door. He heard Chloe follow behind. Once Dean stepped outside, he closed the door and turned to the reporter. "You don't want to follow."

"What's he going to do?" Chloe asked, sounding more curious than freaked. It was comforting to know she could push her feelings aside and just focus on the task at hand when necessary.

"He's going to bury him."

"Doesn't he need help?" she asked, although she didn't look too pleased with the idea of offering any.

"He can handle it. Besides, there's more to teach you." Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a rosary. "Take this, you'll need it."

"For?"

"Blessing water."

"Oh. Sure." Chloe pocketed the rosary. "I know I have a pretty good memory, but is there anyway I can get these exorcisms and rituals written down? For studying purposes."

Sam nodded. He grabbed his duffel back and pulled out a notebook he'd been slowly filling with notes. "I've been meaning to give this to you for a while." He handed it to her, watching her flip through it slowly. "It has a basic exorcism, a prayer for blessing water, the design for a devil's trap and anything else I could think of that you'd need to survive a demon attack. I just hope you never have to use it."

Chloe closed the book and gave him a tight smile. "Don't we all." She paused, tracing a finger over the book's cover. "Sam, Dean told me how close his deadline was."

"Yeah, I figured he would."

"Are you okay?" she asked softly.

Sam studied her, knowing her question was honest. He briefly wondered if she'd asked the same thing to Dean, but then realized she probably knew better. Getting Dean to open up was as hard as burying a body— in stone. He'd only recently confessed his fear to Sam and that hadn't been until after being thrown for an emotional loop thanks to the crocotta.

Chloe seemed to take Sam's silence as an answer, because she nodded. "Well, can you do me a favor."

"What?"

Chloe met his gaze, as if to make sure he heard her correctly. "Call me. No matter what."

Sam swallowed, understanding her statement. She meant even if he didn't break Dean's deal. That outcome was too hard to think about for him to even comprehend calling someone afterwards, but he figured she knew that. "Okay," he said simply.

* * *

"My offer still stands," Dean joked as he and Sam walked Chloe to the door. This time he had his shotgun on hand, in case there were more demons hiding in the dark.

Chloe laughed. "Thanks, but I should really get back."

"Yeah, okay."

Sam stepped forward and set a hand on her shoulder. Dean expected him to pull her into a hug, but he simply squeezed her shoulder. "Stay safe."

Chloe nodded, looking between the brothers. She pulled out a necklace, showing the charm they had given her. "I will. But you two have to promise me something." She smiled softly, tucking the necklace back under her shirt. "Keep fighting." She looked up at Sam. "No matter what."

Dean almost smiled at her words. It was the same thing he'd been telling Sam for months. It was good to know someone else backed him up.

"We need more people like you out there fighting for the good guys," Chloe continued.

Sam nodded. "We need people like you too, Chloe. You're just as important as we are."

Chloe looked embarrassed as if she wanted to brush off his comment. "Aw, Sammy. Such a big softy," Dean teased before she could argue Sam's statement.

Sam rolled his eyes, giving his brother an annoyed look. "Yeah, yeah."

Dean laid a hand on Chloe's shoulder and guided her out the door. "Come on, I'll walk you to your car."

"Okay. Bye Sam," she called as they walked outside.

Once they reached her car, Dean turned her so she faced him, ignoring the fact that Sam was probably watching from the doorway. He placed both hands on her shoulders, forcing her to meet his gaze. "He's right, you know."

Chloe looked surprised, but didn't say anything.

"The world needs people like you just as much as it needs us. We're fighting the same fight just on different fronts." He squeezed her shoulders, trying to get his words to sink in. It bothered him how easily she dismissed herself. In a scary way, it reminded him of himself. He didn't want to see her turn into him.

"You _are_ important."

To Be Continued…


	17. Final Messages

Chloe smirked as soon as she opened her phone. Spending two days in the hospital was not good for her extended social life. She dialed her voicemail, silently hoping the messages were from the Winchesters. Following their impromptu lessons in Pennsylvania, the three of them had been fairly regular with keeping in contact via phone. Because of their varying schedules, it usually meant they just left messages on each others phone, but it was enough as far as Chloe was concerned.

Dean's deadline was days away, so she'd take anything she could get.

_Hey Chloe, it's Sam._ Chloe swallowed when she heard his voice. Over the last few weeks his voice had slowly grown sadder whenever he left a message. He still held out hope that he'd break Dean's deal, but she could hear the ever-shortening timeline wearing on him. _We don't have any leads yet. Dean and I have been burning through demons lately and not one of them will give up anything…Sometimes I wish Dean had just tried Doc Benton's science. Not that I blame him, the idea never really sat well with me either, but…well it was an option. It could have worked. But he's right, it wasn't worth it. It wasn't living. At least not the way I want him to live…Bobby showed up two days ago. He's going to help us out. He thinks he's getting closer to finding Lilith._ Chloe frowned. She hated the idea of the brothers going after the powerful demon. True, she probably held Dean's contract, but she was also out for Sam's blood.

_Anyway, I know it's been a while, so I just wanted to fill you in. Stay Safe. Bye._ Chloe smiled, resisting the urge to save his message. Part of her wanted to keep them for sentimentality, but she knew it was risky. What if her phone fell into someone else's hands?

Pressing delete, she moved on to the next message, guessing who it was before she heard his voice. _Seriously Chloe, you gotta get a better voicemail. Yours is so boring…Man, I need a vacation. How's Metropolis this time of year? Heh, yeah right. Sam would ring my neck if I bailed. I really wish he'd just take me up on my offer to hit the beach for two days of relaxation. Get a case of beer and some women, go out in style._ Chloe rolled her eyes. _Yeah, yeah, I can hear the eye roll from here. I don't know what Sam thinks we're going to do once we find Lilith. We don't have the Colt. Bela, sold that to the enemy. But I guess I'll keep fighting as long as he will. I just hope this doesn't kill him too…_Chloe frowned, understanding his statement. _You and Bobby better look after him if this does go south. Promise?_ Chloe nodded. _Yeah, I thought so. Well, uh, stay safe. Bye._

'Bye'. It was all she ever got from either of them, but then again, it was all she ever offered them. They never said 'talk to you later', because they all knew there might not be a later. It was a bit depressing, but it was more realistic. With Dean's deadline looming, they didn't need anymore painful hope in their lives. So, they kept the partings simple and realistic. _Stay safe. Bye._

Chloe's finger hovered over delete, but stopped. Promising herself she'd delete it later, she saved the message.

* * *

"_We are not going to make the same mistakes all over again. You guys wanna save me, find something else."_ Dean rubbed a hand over his face, trying to focus on the books in front of him. He didn't regret his order to Sam and Bobby. They weren't going to rely on Ruby for help. He wasn't putting his brother at risk. Why didn't they see his reasoning in this?

Instinctively he pulled out his cell phone, checking to see if Chloe had called. She'd left him a message earlier, so there was no reason for her to call back, but he couldn't help checking. He was starting to think she was the only one who agreed with him in fighting this battle smart.

Ignoring the part of him that had laughed when he'd saved the message, he called his voicemail and replayed her last message. He needed a distraction from the sound of hellhounds, he reasoned.

_Don't even try mocking my voice mail, Mr. Munster. I'll change mine when you think up a more clever pseudonym. So I better not have gotten your voice mail because you're too busy relaxing on some beach. You stop fighting and I'll kick your ass._ Dean smirked, more from necessity than a reaction to her words. He already knew what came next. _And don't smirk, Winchester. I'm more capable than you know…Anyway, I'm sure you know, but Sam told me about your run-in with the immortal Doc a couple weeks ago. You'll probably just mock me for saying this, but I'm proud of you. I'd love to see you break the deal, but I'm glad to hear you turn down immortality. We are going to win this fight, somehow, but we don't need to forget our morals along the way. It's what separates us from the bad guys, right? Yeah. So, stay safe. Bye_.

Dean slipped the phone back in his pocket, once again forgetting to delete her message. He thought about calling her back, but decided against it. They were down to the wire and he didn't need to be distracted by her. Knowing his luck, the one time he wanted to get her answering machine she'd actually pick up. He had thirty hours to go. No time for social calls.

_And yet you can listen to her message_. He mocked himself.

Across the room, he watched his brother flip through some books, a determined look on his face. _Don't go there, Sammy_. He thought, knowing what his brother was looking for. Even from where he sat, Dean recognized the book as the one that held most of Bobby's information on demons.

"Fine. Have it your way, little brother," he muttered, heading towards the basement to make preparations. Sam wasn't going to let this go so he might as well help out. If he wanted the knife, he'd get him the knife. After all, what where big brothers for?

* * *

Sam watched the scenery pass by as they sped to Indiana. Bobby's declaration still rang in his head. He was glad to have the older hunter along, but he also wanted him as far away from the fighting as possible. Bobby could handle himself, but this Lilith demon was powerful. He didn't need to lose both him and Dean in one night.

As if on cue, his phone jingled letting him know he had a message. His brother looked at him curiously, before returning his gaze to the road. "Chloe?" he asked.

Sam shrugged. "Probably. I don't know why I didn't hear her call, though."

Dean gestured behind them. "We just drove through a dead zone. No cell service."

"Oh." Sam flipped open his phone and called his voice mail, glancing at Dean as it rang. His brother's eyes were on the road, but he was obviously listening intently.

_Hey Sam. Sorry about the call earlier. I would have left a message, but I was in a hurry and I think your phone was turned off. Of course, now you're still not answering, but I'm guessing it's because you're in the middle of killing a certain she-demon. It's down to the wire, I know, but I'm still researching on my end. Who knows, maybe I'll find something at the last minute…But no matter what keep fighting. You and Dean are fighters and, heaven forbid anything happens, you should go down swinging. I know that's how I want to go._ Sam glanced at his brother, wondering if the two of them had talked. _Anyway, this is kind of dumb considering what I just said, but: stay safe. Bye. _

Sam hung up, not even bothering to delete the message. "What did she say?" Dean asked.

Sam smirked. "Same thing you did. I swear you two rehearsed those speeches together."

"Hey, no way, I thought up that speech on my own."

"Yeah, well, she just told us to keep fighting."

Dean nodded. "Good advice."

Sam nodded back, returning his gaze to the scenery. It was dark already. They'd been driving longer than he'd realized.

After a while, he swallowed, working up the courage to tell his brother what he'd been meaning to since they'd piled into the car.

"Hey Dean."

"Yeah?"

"You know if this doesn't, um, if this doesn't go the way we want, I want you to know— "

"No. No, no, no, no, no," Dean interrupted, shaking his head.

"What?" Sam asked, although he already knew the answer. Even with his death looming, Dean was still Dean. No chick-flick moments, no teary goodbyes.

* * *

Chloe closed her eyes, trying to ignore the fact that she was alone in a prison cell. It figured she couldn't even be proposed to without something happening. Jimmy hadn't even had a real diamond for crying out loud and yet, Fate had felt the need to step in and mess with her. Not that her mind was really on the proposal, but it had been a nice distraction.

Across the prison, a clock chimed and she glanced up, feeling dread in her stomach before looking. Midnight. Dean's last day. She felt so useless sitting in jail when Dean could be dying. Or dead.

_Please no._ She thought, fighting back tears. Even if they called her to tell her they broke the deal she wouldn't get the message. She was stuck behind bars. Before Jimmy had taken her out, she'd been toying with the idea of calling the brothers back and telling them what she really wanted to say. She'd even rehearsed a message that wouldn't make Dean puke with disgust, but would get her point across. Of course, she'd never had the guts to use it.

_I don't know what's going to happen tonight, but I had to make sure you knew something._

"Sam, that's not Ruby. That's not Ruby!" Dean snapped.

Sam instinctively brought the knife up, but the demon in Ruby was too fast. Before either brother could react they were thrown back. The knife falling uselessly to the floor.

_I may not be family, in fact, I don't even know how to describe our relationship, but I do care about you._

"Stop!" Sam screamed, his voice cracking as he watched his brother get torn to pieces before his eyes and all he could do was stand there. "No! Stop!"

_I meant what I said earlier, you guys are important, and not just to this war, but also to me. I realize it's a little late for something like this, but I wanted to tell you. Because no matter what happens I have to know we'll stay friends, or acquaintances or whatever we are. So Dean, no pressure, but if you could stay alive I'd appreciate it. You too, Sam._

Sam sobbed, holding his brother's lifeless body carefully as if he might do more damage. "No, no, no…" he mumbled, willing him to live.

_You can't go. This war needs you...I need you._

"Dean…"

To Be Continued…

**A/N:** Only one more chapter, then I won't be updating until the fall when both shows premeire. Can't just end here, right? Thank you for all your reviews! You guys rock!


	18. Webisode: Blink

He smirked as Chloe walked into the room

He smirked as Chloe walked into the room. She was gorgeous. Of course he'd known that the moment he'd met her, but there was something about seeing her in his shirt that made it even more obvious.

"What are you looking at?"

"You." He slid to the end of the bed and grabbed her waist.

"What are you doing?" She was attempting annoyance, but it wasn't working.

"This." In one movement, he stood, turned and tossed her onto the bed. She squealed then laughed, shaking her head at him.

"That wasn't very nice, Winchester."

He climbed onto the bed, crawling towards her as she squirmed away playfully. "I know. But this will be."

Her laugh was cut short and he blinked, a scream bubbling in his throat before he knew what to be scared of.

Another blink and he was on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Chloe was up there, sprawled out like it was the floor.

The scream ripped from his throat and he tried to move, to grab her.

Another blink and fire consumed them until all he knew was the smell of burnt flesh.

_Blink_

The smell lingered, but he knew it was just him burning. Chloe now stood in front of him. Whole and beautiful.

She was studying the area in front of her, oblivious to him standing achingly close. Her eyes were sharp and the pistol in her hand was held expertly. She was doing what he had always wanted to keep her from.

She was hunting.

He caught movement behind her and cringed. "Look out!" he cried, only to have the words die in his throat.

Like a professional, she sensed and moved, aiming at the creature before it could jump her. But there were two, and she wasn't fast enough.

"No!"

_Blink_

The junkyard. Bobby's house.

He walked inside, longing for the relief he knew the hunter would provide.

The smell of blood met him at the door and his hope died. Across the room lay his friend, murdered, like Wandell a year earlier.

"Meg."

In the distance, he heard his brother's demonic laugh.

_Blink_

Like a cruel joke, his hope returned at the sight of his Impala. His baby.

He turned, knowing his brother was nearby. Sam stood, waiting. It was a stakeout. It was the same thing they'd done for years. Except now, something as different.

Sam was on his own.

When they attacked, black eyes gleaming, Sam moved like he was waiting for backup. When none came, he doubled his efforts, making up for the lost partner.

It wasn't enough.

"Sam…"

_Blink_

The pain was excruciating, but it was nothing compared to the realization that accompanied it.

They would die.

They couldn't save him.

He couldn't save them.

_Blink_

He was alone.

"Somebody help me!"

**A/N: **Alright, and now I'm done until the new seasons start. Apologies for the wait! Maybe I'll post some other fic to make the wait seem shorter :)

Thanks for the reviews!!


	19. Webisode: Damaged Link

**A/N:** This is set after Dean's 'final' death in Mystery Spot. It's a small oneshot I thought of.

"Not that I really expect you to call me back, but hey, why mess with tradition, right?" Chloe snarked as she left a message on Dean's phone. Neither of the brothers had been answering their phones for about a month. It wasn't like the last time, either. The numbers still worked. They just were choosing to ignore her calls.

"So, I think I'm getting closer to finding Bela. Although, if you never call me back, maybe I'll just keep the information to myself." Chloe sighed, she hated talking to answering machines. "Yeah, so call me back, okay?"

She hung up and tossed her phone on her desk. As soon as they decided to stroll through town again, she was going to shoot them both with rocksalt then pull her own vanishing act. See how they liked it. _Not that they'd notice._

"Freakin' Winchesters," she grumbled, continuing her search for the British thief.

* * *

"It's me. Call me back."

Chloe had given up leaving more of a message. She was about three messages away from forgetting the Winchesters had ever existed.

* * *

Chloe almost laughed when the tip came in. "Now if only I knew someone who wanted to find Bela," she said to herself. One of her bottom-of-the-ladder contacts had just caught wind of Bela a few states over.

"They so don't deserve a phone call," she groused as she reached for her phone. It had been two months since her last contact with the boys. Correction: two months since _they_ had contacted _her_. She'd been calling them on an almost regular basis.

"It's Sam, leave me a message," Chloe mimicked, dialing the younger Winchester's number. Sure enough, four rings and his voice mail. "Hey Sam. It's me. I found Bela…"

* * *

Sam parked the Impala down the road and snuck back to the hotel. His main focus lately had been tracking the Trickster, but he was willing to take time off if it meant finding Bela.

Before he got too close he sensed movement around the corner. Pulling his gun out, he crept towards the edge of the wall. He spotted the source of the noise and glared, picking up his pace. It was hard to see in the moonless night, but he could make out the person's small frame.

He didn't give Chloe a chance to speak before grabbing her shoulders and pulling her deeper into the shadows. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, easing up on his grip a little. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered Chloe was an ally. He really shouldn't be bruising her.

Unfazed by his grip, she reached between his arms, pushing out and unhooking his hands from her shoulders. "Tracking Bela," she spat. "What the hell are _you_ doing here? I thought you forgot how to listen to your voicemail."

"I didn't forget."

"Could of fooled me," Chloe said, standing up taller.

Sam shook his head. He didn't have time for this. "I don't need your help."

"I'm not offering any," Chloe countered. She pulled a gun from the holster on her waist and started towards the hotel.

Sam grabbed her before she could get too far. "What are you doing?"

"I told you already."

"You're not going in there," Sam stated.

Chloe crossed her arms. "I stopped listening to you the moment you stopped picking up your phone."

"You wanna know why I stopped answering?" he asked, stepping a little closer to her. For a moment, he saw her face soften with hope. Hope was for the foolish. Sam had figured that out months ago.

She nodded. "That'd be nice."

"Wouldn't it." Sam set his face. "Dean's dead."

* * *

Chloe gasped at Sam's words like he'd sucker punched her. Dean was dead? Suddenly she realized the other brother was actually missing. Sam's harsh behavior had thrown her. She'd barely noticed Dean's absence, trying to figure out when Sam had come in contact with Red Kryptonite.

"Dead?"

"Yeah." Chloe was surprised the coldness in his tone. It was like he wasn't even phased by his brother's passing.

"I'm—"

"_Don't_. Say you're sorry," Sam snapped, cutting her off.

Maybe he was a little phased. Dean's death was probably the reason for Sam's behavior.

"Sam," Chloe tried again. She felt like a jerk. She'd spent the past couple months cursing the brothers and their answering machines when the whole time Sam had been on his own—at least she assumed it was the whole time. "When?"

Sam glared. "I don't wanna talk about it."

Chloe sighed. "Fine." She turned and headed towards the corner and Bela's hotel room. Mourning or not, she was going to help Sam face Bela. To her surprise, Sam didn't argue, although he did move in front of her.

He was taking point. And she wasn't going to argue.

* * *

"Get out!" Sam snapped, stepping in front of her.

It was a trap. Bela wasn't there, but some trigger happy guy was.

"Now!" He pushed her towards the door, making sure to stay in front as they moved. As she turned to leave there was another gunshot, only this time from Sam's gun. She didn't have to look back to know what had happened.

Together, they hurried out of the house and towards the Impala. Chloe had parked her car farther down.

Once they stopped, Chloe got a good look at Sam. "You've been shot," she said, noticing the blood pooling on his shirt.

Sam zipped up his carhartt. "I'm fine."

"No you're not," Chloe argued, stepping closer. She brought up her hand. "Let me help you."

"No." Sam stepped out of her reach. "I don't need your help."

"Sam, please." Chloe looked up at the man, who months ago had used his kind smile to keep her on speaking terms with his brother. Now, the smile was gone, replaced by an emotionless stare. Dean had died and so had the Sam she'd known.

Sam opened the driver's door and slipped inside. "Stay safe, Chloe."

"Don't go," she tried, reaching to grab the door handle.

He started the car and drove off, forcing her to step back or loose a foot.

"Bye…"

* * *

Sam barely gritted his teeth as he dug into the bullet wound. It didn't hurt, not really. He'd had worse pain.

"_Sam, please."_

He dug deeper, locating the bullet.

"_Don't go."_

He grimaced, but it wasn't the wound that hurt him.

"_I'm supposed to wake up…"_


	20. Webisode: Future Unknown

**Chapter Summary:** What if Dean never comes back from Hell?

* * *

Chloe looked up when a bottle of beer was set in front of her.

"You look like you could use it," Ellen said.

Chloe smiled and gently pushed it away. "Water?"

At Ellen's surprised look, she shrugged. "I'm just not in the mood."

The older woman nodded and grabbed a water bottle. "So, I'm guessing the exorcism didn't go so well."

"The exorcism went fine," Chloe said, taking a sip of water. "It was everything before it that didn't."

Ellen gave her a knowing look. "How many?"

"Too many…and a little boy." Chloe took a longer drink of water and sighed. "Maybe I will take a beer."

Without a word, Ellen set the alcohol on the countertop and moved on, but not before letting her hand settle over Chloe's for a moment. A silent comfort that had become all too necessary in the growing months. _It wasn't your fault._

_Sure feels like it._ Chloe thought, taking a long swig of beer and trying to block out the faces of the demon's victims.

* * *

"Have you seen him lately?"

Bobby shook his head, leaning against the porch railing. "Nope. But it's been a while. I'm sure he'll show up soon. He drops by pretty regularly to show me he's still alive."

Chloe hopped up onto the railing, swinging her legs slowly. "You think he's okay?" she asked, unable to look the hunter in the eyes.

Bobby paused before nodding. "He could be better, though."

"How?"

"I think you know how," Bobby said, looking at her pointedly.

Chloe sighed at the familiar lecture. She wasn't so sure Bobby was right, but if she didn't follow the hunter's advice he was never going to get off her case.

"Where is he?" she asked finally.

* * *

Sam wasn't surprised when she slid into the booth across from him. He'd spotted her as soon as she'd walked through the door.

"Been a while," he said by way of greeting.

She nodded. "Yeah. Too long."

Sam studied her, noticing the subtle changes in her face and demeanor. If he hadn't known already, he would have been able to guess her new career path. Everything from the way she sat to the way her eyes unconsciously studied the diner, spoke of a lifestyle that was similar yet completely different from the one she'd had as a reporter.

She was a hunter.

And from what he'd heard, a pretty good one.

_Dean would have been proud._ Sam thought, allowing himself a small smile at the realization. _Proud and furious that she'd taken up the dangerous job. _He mused.

"I heard about that werewolf in Texas," Chloe said. "Nice work."

Sam nodded. "Thanks."

There was a pause and Sam was reminded of all the time that had passed. He still wasn't completely sure what had happened. He just knew that in the few years following Dean's death the communication between them had slowly lessened then disappeared completely.

She'd had problems at home.

He'd had a promise to keep. _Keep fighting, Sammy._

Chloe licked her lips then reached across the table and grabbed his hand. "I'm sorry."

"Me too."

* * *

Sam glanced to his side and smiled, watching Chloe sleep as comfortably as possible against the car window. He was tempted to find a motel and give them both a break, but he couldn't spare the time. The sooner they got into Missouri, the better.

If the pattern he and Chloe had found was to be believed, the death toll in Marshall, Missouri was about to increase drastically. So, for the time being, the passenger seat was the best bed either of them was going to get.

But Sam didn't mind much, because just having another person with him in the Impala again is more than he could ask for. Even if it wasn't the person he really wanted.

* * *

Bobby glanced out the window, watching Sam under the hood of the Impala. Most times the young hunter popped the hood it wasn't for maintenance, but for memories.

In the living room, Chloe sat behind her laptop, tracking down information for their next hunt.

If Bobby closed his eyes, he could pretend it was years before when two brother's occupied the places two friends now stood.

* * *

"Are you sure?"

Chloe nodded, studying the information again. After all the research she'd done there was little doubt. "It's big. And it's going to happen in Lawrence." She circled the city on her map and looked up at Sam. "I just don't know when."

Sam studied the map, his eyes sad with memories. "I was born in Lawrence," he admitted.

Chloe blinked at the news, remembering everything he and Dean had told her years before. "I doubt it's a coincidence," she said.

Sam set his mouth and nodded. "Me neither." He sat back carefully. "And I bet I know when it's going to happen."

* * *

Chloe's grip on her shotgun tightened in anticipation. Beside her, Sam shifted, holding Ruby's knife like he was ready to stab the first thing that moved.

Behind them, two dozen or so hunters stood in similar positions with their own weapons.

This was it. The final battle. Winner take all.

Literally.

Somewhere in the darkness beyond them, the enemy was charging. And she was pissed.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

* * *

In some twisted, cosmic way, Sam decided it was fitting that the final battle happened then, exactly thirty years after his family first learned the true meaning of evil and loss.

* * *

Chloe smiled, pressing her palm against the engraved letters. Even in the hot, summer sun, the stone was cool to the touch. She looked behind her and nodded, knowing her time was short. She had places to go, things to kill.

"We did it," she said. "And he's fine."

She swallowed her tears, tracing the letters carefully, saving them to memory until the next year. "I know it took me a while, but I didn't forget my promise."

She stood as footsteps sounded behind her, announcing Sam's arrival. "I'll take care of him, Dean. I promise." She trailed her fingers along the headstone one last time, before walking away and leaving the brothers alone.

* * *

"Lilith's dead," he declared with a small laugh. "We did it."

He smiled, resting his hand where he'd seen Chloe place hers. "I miss you." He closed his eyes, letting the few tears fall. "I haven't given up on you. But I haven't forgotten my promise, either."

He glanced back at Chloe, out of earshot resting against the Impala, and smiled. "And don't worry, I'm okay." Chloe caught his gaze and smiled back.

"I promise."


	21. Webisode: Never Was

**Chapter Summary: **In a world without Clark Kent would Chloe and the Winchesters meet?

She wasn't interested.

"Bank Robber Linked to Dead St. Louis Murderer," Chloe read the article's title aloud before taking a sip of her coffee.

George, her fiancé, looked up from his toast. "Like a relative? Or the same guy?"

"They say it's the same guy, but I doubt it. Coming back from the dead is impossible."

George cocked an eyebrow in response.

"Okay," Chloe amended. "It's highly unlikely. Besides, I doubt this Dean Winchester is a meta like me."

George shrugged. "Maybe there's more out there than just the metas of Smallville."

"Now there's a scary thought."

A moment later, the phone rang, pulling the conversation from Winchesters to wedding plans and she didn't resist. Her life was too busy to worry about potential resurrections.

* * *

_They didn't think she had a case._

"Hey what about that?" Dean asked, gesturing to an article on the newspaper Sam was reading. _Couple Murdered in Locked Bedroom._

Sam read the title and shook his head. "They already caught the murderer."

"Human?" Dean asked, looking confused.

"Yeah, apparently the guy can get inside a room without opening doors."

"Like teleportation?"

Sam shrugged. "Who knows? The reporter didn't say."

Dean nodded, reading the name. "Hey, is that _the_ Chloe Sullivan?"

"_The_ Chloe Sullivan?"

"Yeah, the reporter from the _Daily Planet_ who covers all those strange murders."

Sam smirked. "Well, since this is the _Daily Planet_ I'd say yes. It's _the_ Chloe Sullivan. Wanna try and get her autograph? We aren't too far from Metropolis."

Dean rolled his eyes, tossing a fry at him. "No, Geek. I don't."

"Hey, I'm just offering."

* * *

_She wasn't afraid of alien attacks._

Chloe moved to stand behind her cousin, reading over her shoulder. "Chasing weather stories again, cuz?" she teased. The article on the screen was reporting on strange cloud cover the previous day over seventeen U.S. cities.

"No, I'm just curious," Lois said, looking up at Chloe.

Chloe smiled, giving Lois's shoulder a squeeze. "Good, you can't go soft on me. I can't be the only hard-nosed Sullivan-Lane reporter."

"Well, this is kind of interesting."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Yeah, dark clouds in the middle of spring. Interesting," she mocked.

"Shut it."

* * *

_He never called her for help._

Sam paced the motel room, trying to wrap his mind around their case. People were being murdered in a fairy tale fashion, and he had no idea how or why. It was some kind of spirit, but the spirit was always outside of the murder scene.

"Sammy, got anything?" Dean asked, walking inside.

Sam settled into his bed with a huff. "Nothing."

Dean smirked. "That's because you aren't as good as me."

"What did you get?" Sam asked, ignoring the dig.

"I swung by the hospital again. See if we missed anything." He settled onto his own bed with a smile. "And I heard a Dr. Garrison reading his daughter fairytales. Brothers Grimm version."

"So?" Sam asked.

"So, his daughter's in a coma, barely holding on. She's been in a coma for years, ever since she was a _little girl._" Dean looked at Sam pointedly, waiting for the connection to click.

"The little girl's spirit is Callie?"

"Bingo." Dean smirked. "It must be some out-of-body experience."

Sam paused, processing the information. "Wait, you said he was reading a story to her?"

"Yeah."

"Do you know which one?"

"Uh, Cinderella."

Sam frowned, grabbing his coat. "Let's go."

* * *

_She didn't know any hunters._

"Vampires?" Chloe frowned as she read over the report. "Seriously?" People were going missing a few states over and the police had only recently found the bodies. All with the same puncture wound in their neck.

George shrugged. "They didn't say vampires, but they did say all the victims died of blood lose, from the neck."

"You think these could be some Smallville vampires?"

"No Chloe," George teased. "I think they're real vampires."

"There's no such thing," Chloe stated, pushing the report away. "There can't be."

* * *

_They didn't take the vampire case, but Gordon still found them._

"No!"

Dean tensed at his brother's exclamation. A gun fired and he spun in time to see Gordon drop to his knees, blood pooling on his shirt and his gun falling to the floor. He looked between the Winchesters for a moment then collapsed. Dead.

There was a pause before Dean's brain completely processed what had happened. His brother had shot Gordon. Gordon was dead. Holy…

"Sam?" he said, pulling his attention from the body to Sam. His brother looked shaken, like he'd never killed anything, or anyone, before. "Sammy?" He reached over and pulled the gun from his brother's hands, feeling a strange sense of relief at his brother's distressed state. He'd expected to find the cold glare his brother had worn after shooting Jake at the devil's gate.

"He was going to shoot you," Sam said finally, turning to Dean.

"Huh." Dean gave Gordon's body one last look then smiled up at Sam. "Thanks."

"Dean…" Sam started.

"No Sam. He needed to be stopped." Dean rested a hand on his shoulder and guided him out of the building. "Now, if you don't mind I'd like to get back to the motel before I bleed to death," Dean said pressing his other hand to his knife wound.

Sam just nodded and Dean almost smiled. He'd murdered a man, but he was still soft-hearted Sam. And Dean couldn't have been more relieved.

* * *

_She didn't know who they were._

Chloe moved around to the bed, pausing when she felt chills run down her spin. Something was off about the room and it wasn't the fact that a couple had been murdered—chopped to pieces more appropriately—there.

Carefully, she turned and gasped at the figure behind her. "Who are you?" she asked, more out of instinct than necessity. If the bloody ax in his hand was any indication she was pretty sure she'd just come in contact with the Petersons' murderer. Only she wasn't so sure he was human.

Without waiting for an answer, she turned and hurried out of the room, mentally cursing anyone who could be listening. A ghost? She must be losing it. That man hadn't been a ghost. She'd been seeing things.

She hurried into the living room, grabbing the first weapon she could find, a fire poker, and swung at the man as he mysteriously appeared—no she was seeing things—in front of her. "Back off," she demanded and swung down at the man's head before he could respond.

Instead of hitting a solid body, the iron sliced through him like he was a projection and he disappeared. Before she had a chance to react, she heard the front door break down and suddenly there were two other men in front of her.

"Come on," one of them ordered, grabbing her arm and pulling her out the house without giving her a chance to argue.

Once they were outside the men stopped and she stepped back, bringing up the fire poker she still held in her hand. "Who are you?" she demanded, hoping this time the answer wouldn't be a psychotic murderer.

The men exchanged a glance. "Are you okay?" the taller man asked.

"I'm fine, but who are you?" she repeated.

The other man stepped closer and gestured to the house. "Do me a favor. Don't go back inside, kay? Just go home to your husband," he said, glancing down at her diamond.

"But what was that thing?" she demanded, but the men were already returning to the house. She started to follow then stopped. She wasn't about to face the ax murderer again. Ghost or not.

Sirens sounded in the distance and Chloe cursed her luck. Without giving the house a second glance, she hurried back to her car, but not before writing down the license plate of the large, black car parked nearby.

* * *

_They had a different source on Bela._

"A trap?" Dean growled, cursing the day he'd encountered Bela. "She set us up?"

Bobby nodded. "Yeah, your friend, Agent Hendrickson, was waiting when I walked into her motel room."

"How'd you get off?" Sam asked, looking just as irritated as his brother.

Bobby shrugged, handing him a piece of paper. "They had nothing on me. Besides, according to that, Bela was expecting me."

Dean read the note with Sam and smirked. It was a forged note from Bela, asking Bobby to come visit. "Nice job."

"Yeah, well, we've gotta be more careful. Apparently Ellen's assumption about Bela is true. She's trying to trap you guys and I doubt it's because she's just a good citizen trying to turn in some criminals." Bobby took the note back and shoved it into his pocket. "You don't follow anymore Bela leads without getting my help first. Just what we need is you two stuck in jail like sitting ducks."

"Okay," the brothers answered in unison.

Dean ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "You think Hendrickson will ever get off our case?"

"Doubt it," Sam muttered. "He thinks we're murderers. We'd have to save his life for him to even begin to believe us."

"Save his life?" Dean scoffed. "He'd have to be possessed to let us save his life."

"Yeah. Probably."

* * *

_She had a different source._

Chloe gave Ellen Harvelle an appreciative nod when the older woman set the beer in front of her. "So, I'm not crazy?" she asked, lightly.

Ellen smiled and shook her head. "You may be crazy, but you didn't imagine that ghost. And that vampire attack in Illinois was real. Some lonely vampire hoping to create a nest."

Chloe took a long swig of her beer, trying to wrap her mind around the information she'd received during her visit. Ellen wasn't a hunter—which was apparently the title for the men and women who hunted the supernatural—but she ran a bar full of hunters and knew quite a bit about their field of work. Chloe was relieved she'd found her, because she wasn't sure how keen she was on interviewing a hunter. They seemed kind of dangerous.

Ellen was probably dangerous, but she was a little safer than the leather wearing, shotgun toting men around her.

"Have you ever heard of a hunter by the name of Harrison?" Chloe asked remembering the hunters she'd met at the haunted house a few months earlier. George had helped her track down their names using the license plate, but she'd had a hard time finding them.

"Harrison? No, don't think so. What did he look like?"

Chloe looked down, pulling up the men's faces from memory. "There were two of them. Brothers maybe. The tallest had shaggy hair…" she trailed off unsure of what else to say. It had been dark and she hadn't seen much. "Green eyes?" she tried with a small shrug, remembering the way the shorter man's eyes had flashed in the streetlight.

"Brothers?" Ellen nodded. "Shaggy haired one real tall?"

"Yeah, and his brother wasn't much shorter." Chloe smiled, hoping Ellen knew them. "They drove a classic Impala. Black, I think."

Ellen nodded, suddenly looking somber. "Yeah, I've heard of them. I knew their daddy years ago."

"Is there anyway I could talk to them?" Chloe asked, confused by Ellen's change of mood. Were the Harrisons a touchy subject?

"No, I'm afraid not." The older woman looked down at the bar as she spoke. "They died."

"Died?"

"About a week ago." Ellen said. "Some black dogs in Indiana."

"Black dogs?"

Ellen looked up. "Hell hounds. Devil's pets. Rip men to shreds."

Chloe shivered, suddenly understanding the woman's sadness. She didn't know anything about the brothers and even she felt sad at their passing.

She took slow sip of beer, remembering the men that had saved her life. _I never got to say thank you._

* * *

_He never knew her._

Sam drove without really watching the road. The road was straight and long, not enough to keep him focused. He reached over and turned on the radio, hoping to drown out his thoughts.

He had a plan. He had a way to save Dean. The plan was set, Bobby was on board. Now was the time when his mind liked to play cruel tricks on him and riddle his thoughts with doubt. He needed to stay focused.

He needed to save Dean.

He glanced over at the passenger seat and sighed. He just wished he wasn't so alone.


	22. Webisode: Lives Unlived 1

Sam turned in his bed, trying to find a better position. Something had pulled him awake and he couldn't relax enough to fall back asleep.

On the bed across from his, Chloe slept with her blankets pulled up tightly under chin. She looked like a child in that position, but he knew she wasn't.

And not just because of the gun tucked under her pillow.

As he watched her, he remembered what had woken him. A dream of death and fear and loneliness. He'd been holding a body, crying into their shoulder.

And it hadn't been Dean.

* * *

Chloe hurried back to the motel room, ignoring her rope-burned wrists and the dull, pistol-whip induced headache. Sam was in danger. That _thing_ had been wearing her face when it had left. There was no telling what Sam would do.

"Please be okay," she pleaded, gripping her gun tightly, preparing herself for anything behind the door.

She opened the door and swallowed at the sight of herself kicking an unconscious Sam in the ribs. "Hey!" she snapped, aiming her gun. The creature spun and glared, and Chloe almost hesitated. Almost.

Two shots and the shifter was dead.

* * *

He woke slowly, swallowing the pain in his head. He blinked, his memory coming back in pieces. Chloe. Flashing eyes. A fight. The thing had hit him over the head with the motel telephone.

As his vision cleared, he realized his was still laying on the floor where he'd fallen, and there was a body next to him. He saw the blonde hair and smelled the blood, and felt his heart tighten in fear.

"Chloe!"

His head screamed as he moved to the body, rolling it over. Her grey features stared back at him and he almost threw up. It wasn't right, something felt off, but his mind was still too jumbled to focus.

All he saw was her. Dead.

"Sam," she said and he blinked, wondering how hard he'd hit his head.

"Sam?" A hand rested on his shoulder. He turned and found himself staring into her green eyes.

"How…" he mumbled, his mind still foggy. He looked between the body on the floor and the very alive woman crouched next to him and felt his brain snap back into focus. He stood, brushing the hand off his shoulder and stepped back. "Chloe?" he asked, carefully. She looked like Chloe, and moved like Chloe, but so had the shifter.

She held up her hands and he noticed the icepack she was holding. "It's me."

_Prove it._ Was on the tip of his tongue, but then he got a better look at her. Watched the way she frowned in worry and eyed him as he wobbled slightly from the head injury. She was Chloe. The real Chloe.

And the body at his feet was the shapeshifter.

"I hate shapeshifters," he grumbled.

* * *

Sam blinked and opened his eyes. Across the dark room, he thought he saw Chloe studying her from her bed. But she didn't comment and he didn't speak.

Instead, he turned and buried his face in his pillow, wondering how long it would be for sleep to take him so he could forget his nightmares.

* * *

Sam waited for Chloe to shoot, before charging, his machete held tightly in his hands. The vampire sunk to its knees as the dead man's blood took affect. It gave one growl of annoyance before Sam took its head.

Another arrow whizzed by and Sam turned on the first vampire's mate, decapitating it with one blow.

Chloe reached his side and held his arm. "Nice job," she said in a way that told him she was as disgusted as he was. Vampire or not, decapitation wasn't pretty.

"Nice shooting."

Chloe smiled wryly, nudging a body with her leg. "Let's burn the bodies, then I'll buy you a beer."

Sam frowned. "You've got cash?"

"Of course." Chloe smirked. "I've got a great poker face."

"Yeah. I know."

* * *

He tensed when he saw the man at the end of the bar eyeball her. She didn't seem to notice, though, turning on her barstool to face him. "You think there were anymore?" she asked, without getting too specific. They weren't in a hunters' bar. There was no telling who, or what, was listening.

He shook his head, keeping an eye on the creep behind her. "No. It's clean."

She smiled, taking a sip of beer. "Good." She stood and gestured to a card table in the corner, next to Creepy. "I'm going to play a hand. Maybe my 'friend' will join me. Get us enough cash to get to the next city."

He wanted to argue. He didn't like her going toe-to-toe with guys that liked to prey on pretty blondes, but he knew she could handle herself. And if anything happened he wouldn't hesitate before stepping in.

He wasn't losing another hunting partner.

* * *

Sam woke with a start and found Chloe sitting at the edge of her bed, watching him carefully. "Bad dream?" she asked.

"How'd you know?"

Chloe smiled gently, reaching over to grab his hand. "Good dreams don't usually make you yell like that."

"Oh."

"Wanna talk about it?"

Sam hesitated, remembering the death and tears and the body he'd held. "Not really."

* * *

"Hello, Beautiful," the demon greeted.

"Hello, Ugly," Chloe responded, crossing her arms.

The creature glared, his eyes flashing black as he lunged. Chloe jumped back, watching as the demon hit the edge of the devil's trap and stumbled. Behind him, Sam walked into the room, a grim smirk on his face.

"Hello, Sam," Chloe greeted, matching his smirk.

"Hello, Chloe."

* * *

She slapped him before the words were completely out of him mouth. "Don't you dare," she seethed.

"Chloe," he started, unconsciously taking a step back.

"No. It's not happening. Not now. Not after all this time. We do this together or we don't do it at all." She crossed her arms and he noted the way her hands shook slightly. "I'm not going to let you sacrifice yourself for this."

_It doesn't matter._ He wanted to argue. His brother was dead. His family was dead. He was the only one left. Who cared if he sacrificed himself, fighting Lilith? Watching her stand in front of him, barely holding herself together, he realized the answer.

She cared.

"Fine." He held out a hand as a peace offering. "Together."

She took his hand and he decided sacrifices could wait. For now.

* * *

"Tell me," Chloe demanded, sitting in the same positions she'd been in for the past few nights. Settled on the side of her bed, watching him wake up from a nightmare. He could only imagine the noises he was making before he woke up.

"Chloe…"

"Nope," she held up a hand. "No excuses. Tell me about the dreams."

Sam hesitated, wondering what she'd think. They weren't visions, he wasn't psychic—at least not anymore. But they were still scary.

He turned and set his feet on the floor, facing her. "I dreamt about you…dying."

Chloe didn't say a word as he explained the dreams, just moved to sit beside him, resting a hand on his leg.

_I'm right here._ Her actions said and Sam smiled, pulling her close.

_Thanks. I'm glad._

* * *

Chloe smiled as the bones caught the flame and burned. It felt good to have an easy hunt actually turn out easy. She nudged Sam with her shoulder, smelling the sweat and dirt that clung to his body. To both of their bodies. "Nice job, Pyro."

He smiled at her and she blinked in surprise. Sam hardly ever smiled during a hunt. It was like some unwritten rule. "Thanks."

Chloe thought about that smile as the fire died and they reburied the ashes. And as they made their way back to the motel. And even as she settled in for bed.

Sam had smiled and she didn't know what that meant.

* * *

He kissed her in the Impala, pressing her against the passenger door, and briefly wondered if she would think he was sick for kissing her in his brother's car. His dead brother's car.

But then she was kissing him back and he couldn't remember his brother's name.

* * *

Sam woke with the feeling of a body in his arms. As he blinked the sleep away, he realized it wasn't a dream and, this time, the body in his arms was alive.

Chloe turned in her sleep, unconsciously tucking herself closer to him. "Bad dream?" she mumbled.

"I thought you were asleep."

Chloe nodded against his chest. "I am."

Sam laughed softly, pulling her closer. "No, good dream. Go to sleep."

* * *

He woke to the smell of smoke clinging to his skin and the images of fire in his mind. The gravel on the crossroads crunched as he stumbled to his feet, taking in the woods around him.

_Sam…_


	23. Webisode: Lives Unlived 2

She was gorgeous, but she reminded him of nightmares and flames that burned deeper than hellfire. He watched her from the shadows, unconsciously waiting for her to burst in flames in front of him.

She was different from his nightmares, though. She was older, stronger. Her eyes still carried the curiosity he'd associated with her, but there was something more to them. He watched the way she walked and carried herself, and felt his heart tug with remorse.

She was a hunter. The thing he'd feared for her to become. _Sam, how could you?_

He took a step towards her, hardly surprised when she sensed his presence and turned. Even less surprised when she pulled a gun on him.

"Who are you?" she demanded, the gun aimed at his heart.

He held up his hands, wondering how hard it would be to convince her of his identity. He wasn't even sure how long he'd been gone, but judging from the years in her eyes it had been too long. Maybe too long for her to believe he was back.

"Chloe," he said, nearly choking on the name.

She frowned and stepped closer. Her guard still up, her gun still aimed, but he thought he saw recognition in her eyes.

He offered her a small smile and watched her guard crumble. She stepped closer, touching his necklace and face, and then she was in his arms, crying. He held her close, remembering the nightmares and the longing he'd had to see her whole and beautiful again.

Then he remembered Sam.

* * *

As soon as he spotted Chloe, Sam froze. She was in another man's arms crying in a way he'd only seen her do once. But what really startled him was the man holding her. The same man who plagued his nightmares and haunted his thoughts even though his soul was in Hell.

"Dean?" he whispered, forgetting the ring he'd just slipped into his pocket and question he'd spent the morning rehearsing.

Familiar, green eyes met his and he locked his knees to keep from falling.

Chloe moved to his side and he studied her gaze for confirmation. His brother was standing in front of him, but he didn't dare move until Chloe told him it was okay. She smiled and he felt his throat tighten.

"Dean?" he asked again.

His brother—_his brother!__—_nodded. "It's me."

Sam let out a noise that sounded like a cross between a sob and a laugh, and closed the gap between them, wrapping his arms around Dean's shoulders and holding on like he'd never let go.

_How many Tuesdays did you have?_ Sam tightened his grip at the memory, feeling his brother return the embrace. _Six years worth._

"How?" he asked.

He felt Dean attempt a shrug and slowly stepped from the embrace, remembering a time when Dean would have teased him for being a girl. A small part of him yearned for the insult, but he knew it wouldn't come. Dean had hugged him just as tightly.

"Ruby," Dean answered simply.

* * *

The ghost appeared and Chloe instantly crawled from the grave, reaching for the shotgun as another hand grabbed it. She looked up at Dean as he aimed and fired, and swallowed the small annoyance that welled up.

Despite his years away from the job, he was a hunter. All the instincts she had, he'd grown up with. So, if he got off a shot before she did it was nothing to be bothered about.

Dean met her gaze and paused, looking down at the shotgun. "Here," he said, handing it to her. "I'll help Sam dig."

* * *

He ran his hand over the black exterior and smiled. It had been six years and his baby was still there. Still whole. He instinctively reached for the door than stopped, realizing something. He didn't have the keys. His brother had the keys. His brother had taken care of her.

He started for the other side of the car, the passenger seat and hesitated again. That wasn't his place either. That belonged to his brother's new partner.

When they joined him at the Impala he saw them hesitate, too, glancing between each other.

She nodded and his brother tossed him the keys, before climbing into the passenger seat. She sat in the back and he realized nothing would be the same, but that didn't mean it had to change completely.

He still had his brother and his wheels.

* * *

"So, hunting?" Dean asked.

Chloe shrugged. "Someone had to pick up where you left off."

Dean smirked at that. "You can't fill my shoes."

"Like I want to," she challenged. "I've got my own name to use, thank you very much."

He smiled softly, playing with the papers scattered on the table. "I never wanted this for you, Chloe."

"I know."

There was a pause and Chloe twitched at the uncomfortable stillness. "I'm good at what I do, if it makes you feel any better."

"How good?"

She shrugged again. "I don't know. Good enough…" she trailed off, the _to not be killed_ freezing in her throat. It'd be a low blow and one she didn't really want to make.

"To be Sam's partner," Dean finished.

Chloe started at his statement. Sam had pulled away from her slightly to reconnect with his brother and she'd let him without argument. The brothers needed to find where they stood again before they fit her into the picture.

Since she'd started sleeping in a separate room, she missed him at night and longed for his kiss in the morning, but she knew Sam needed the time. She also knew he felt guilty for the lives they'd led without Dean. Like he'd betrayed Dean somehow by moving on at all, especially with her.

She remembered the stories Sam had told her—when he'd been a few past sober—about Dean being in love with her. She doubted it was real love, but she believed there was some truth to Sam's words.

She knew that was the reason it had been years before she had shared his bed.

"Partner?" she said finally, letting out a small scoff. "I think he's taken his years of being the younger brother out on me. I'm his lackey, not his partner," she joked.

Dean studied her before slowly shaking his head. "I doubt that."

* * *

The Chupacabra lunged and Dean watched Sam run directly into its path.

"Sam!" he cried in surprise before remembering their third member.

Chloe's back was to the creature and she spun at Dean's voice, but didn't have time to move before Sam wrapped his arms around her and pulled her away from the dangerous creature. They hit the ground and rolled away, distracting the creature long enough for Dean to get off a shot.

The creature fell and he hurried to his brother's side.

"What the hell, Sam?" he demanded, surprised when Chloe spoke with him. She stood and brushed herself off, giving Sam an annoyed look.

"Warn me next time before you mow me over. I almost shot you," she said, holding up her pistol.

"Yeah Sammy," Dean added, feeling oddly out of place. "I'm the one who runs headfirst into danger, remember?"

Sam looked between the two of them and rolled his eyes. "You're welcome," he muttered.

* * *

He crawled into bed exhausted and tried to ignore his brother in next bed. It was the same every night and he was starting to get annoyed. Something was keeping his brother awake at night and he doubted it was the lumpy mattress.

Things had fallen back into place for the most part, he had his brother, his car and even with Chloe things felt as normal as their life had ever been. But he still felt an uneasiness in their small group and he was pretty sure he'd figured out what it was.

* * *

"So, you and Chloe?" Dean started once they were alone in the motel room.

Sam tossed his bag on his bed and frowned at his brother, feeling anxious suddenly. "Me and Chloe, what?"

Dean just stared at him, giving him the _big brother knows all_ look. Sam wasn't sure how much he missed that look. "Come on, Sammy. It's been a while, but you can't keep things from me."

"What things?" Sam pressed. "You've lost me."

In response, Dean pulled out a small velvet box. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Where did you get that?" Sam asked, opening his bag as if he would find an identical box hidden inside.

"It fell out of your bag while you were digging for clothes."

Sam's gaze shifted from his feet to the box in his brother's hand then back. "I was going to tell you, eventually."

"Yeah?" Dean challenged, though his tone was light. "And when were you planning on telling Chloe?"

Sam sighed and dropped onto his bed. "The day you came back," he mumbled to the carpet.

Dean paused, before moving to sit across from him, handing him the ring box like peace offering. "Oh." He leaned forward to catch Sam's gaze. "But that was weeks ago, man. What's kept you?"

Sam didn't respond. He wasn't sure how to express his thoughts. How did he tell his brother it was partly _his_ fault he'd held off on the proposal? That it was his uncertainty about Dean's feelings for Chloe and vice versa that had kept his mouth shut?

"Oh," Dean repeated after a beat. Apparently he could still read Sam's thoughts pretty well. "It's because of me, isn't it? Me and Chloe?"

Sam shrugged helplessly.

"Well, that's the stupidest reason I've ever heard," Dean stated his tone having lost all sense of teasing.

"What?" Sam demanded.

"Come on Sam. There was no me and Chloe, remember? At least not the way there's a you and Chloe."

Sam studied his brother's face. "Did you love her?" he asked, ignoring the way his throat tightened at the words.

"No." Dean rested a heavy hand on his shoulder and forced him to look him in the eye. "I promise, Sam. I may have cared for her more than I let on—"

Sam snickered slightly.

"—but love? No way." Dean leaned back and smirked. "Now Chloe on the other hand was probably deeply in love with me, but it's been six years so I'm sure she's over it. Mostly."

Sam smiled, feeling more relaxed than he had for a while. As Dean's words comforted him he felt slightly embarrassed by his worry. Chloe loved him, he loved her and the past wasn't going to change what they had.

"So, when are you going to ask her, Romeo?" Dean asked.

* * *

"This isn't my first hunt, Winchester," Chloe snapped, pressing a finger into Dean's chest.

He glared down at her, but she didn't back off. "Could have fooled me," he shot back, grabbing her hand.

"Like that's hard," she snarked, biting back a smirk.

Dean's eyes flitted over her shoulder briefly, before returning to hers, still sharp with anger. "You don't belong out here. You couldn't hit the broadside of a barn if your life depended on it."

"I'm a better shot than you," she countered.

"Prove it," Dean challenged.

Taking her cue, Chloe spun and fired at the Sasquatch before it could move closer. The creature stumbled and growled then charged forward. Dean pulled out his own gun and they both fired at the creature, aiming at the place where it's heart should be located.

Finally, the creature let out a wet growl and fell dead.

Chloe curled a lip and looked up at Dean. "Let's find Sam then burn this thing."

Dean nodded, guiding her into the woods. "'This isn't my first hunt, Winchester?'" he mimicked. "What are we, in a Western?"

"Shut-up."

* * *

He tossed a twenty on the table, told them to order pizza then disappeared. Research wasn't his thing and now that there were two scholars in the group he didn't feel obligated to stay.

There were some advantages to change.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Sam asked, hesitation creeping onto his face as Chloe moved to the window and looked outside.

"I'm checking for cops?"

"Why?"

"Last time a guy asked me to marry him I was arrested." She smirked, returning to sit on the bed across from him. "I blame karma, though."

"Why?" Sam repeated.

"I didn't love him." She smiled at him and held out her hand. "But I think I'm safe this time. Besides, you're the felon in this relationship."

Sam laughed. "So…" he prompted, gesturing with the opened box.

"Yes!" Chloe waved her hand. "Yes, yes, yes."

Sam smiled as he slipped the ring on her finger then leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. Chloe almost cried at the familiar action. "I love you, Chloe."

"I know," she teased, pressing a chaste kiss on his lips. "I love you, too." She grabbed his collar and leaned back on the bed, pulling him with her. His lips met hers and she held tight, attempting to make up for the last few weeks.

The moment was cut short when the door flew open and someone coughed dramatically. "Guess this means I'm getting my own room," Dean said, grinning at the two of them sprawled on the bed.

"She said yes," Sam explained.

"No duh."

* * *

Dean took point, Sam followed and Chloe watched their backs.

The creature never stood a chance.


	24. Webisode: Hidden Demon

**Summary:** Centuries later, she's not as alone as she'd thought. Chloe's powers made her immortal.

_-Joshua-_

_It was the first hunter's funeral she attended and the taste of smoke never quite left her mouth after that._

The gate blew before anyone could move. Black smoke poured out as demons ran for freedom. Chloe cocked her gun and surged forward, blasting at anything that came close. "We need to shut it!" she ordered to the group behind her.

They nodded and moved with her, firing and dodging the deadly smoke. It took all of them just to move the door, but with a combined effort they slammed it shut only minutes after it had opened.

Only minutes. But a lot could happen in mere minutes, especially with Hell wide open.

Chloe leaned against the door, breathing heavy. "We've got work to do," she muttered. "Right after we seal this thing for good."

_-Martha-_

_She missed the funeral, but made sure to leave tulips at the late senator's grave every time she drove through Kansas._

On any other car it would have been invisible, but against the black exterior it was easy to see. One hand print ran from the trunk to the driver's door as if someone had caressed her car's classic frame.

_-Ellen-_

_The funeral was larger than any she had seen for a hunter, but then again, the older woman had been so much more to so many people._

"How many got out?" Billie Harvelle asked, sliding a beer in front of her.

"An army," Chloe said.

Billie nodded and rested a hand on her shoulder. "You tried, and you'll beat them."

Chloe gave her a small smile as she took a swig of beer, remembering the first time a Harvelle had told her that. Some days it felt like nothing had changed since that day, but then she remembered the bloodline that _hadn't_ continued and realize everything had changed.

After another drink, she lost her appetite for alcohol and slipped out of the bar. Alone. She was always alone. Even with a new generation of hunters popping up every few decades she felt alone. Eventually they would get old and die, or be killed.

But not her. Never her.

-_General Sam-_

_She stayed just long enough for Superman to come home and comfort his wife, then disappeared back into her new life._

The radio was stuck on ancient rock for a week before she had time to get the car to a mechanic, and by then she'd decided she didn't mind AC/DC too much. It was better than the new generation's "music," at least.

_-Bobby-_

_Sam disappeared before she even lit the match, and stayed away for almost three months after the ashes had dissipated into the air._

The old graveyard was barely visible under the crescent moon, but Chloe knew her way around the small plot of land. She'd been visiting for decades.

And it had been decades since she'd had any visitors.

She paused before walking out of the patch of trees that bordered one side of the graveyard. Someone was standing amongst the graves. A man, from the looks of it. And he was standing by the oldest headstones—the ones she came to visit most.

There were no bodies beneath the man's feet, but she still felt annoyance well up to see him standing so disrespectfully on top of the graves. Instead of speaking her annoyance, though, she stayed back and watched.

Slowly, he moved from one headstone to the next, pausing in front of each to run a hand over the name. She knew without reading the names which headstone he was at, during each pause.

Finally he stopped at the grave she always saved for last. The one that had had a body beneath it for a time. He didn't run a hand over this headstone, though. Just studied it for a moment then walked away into the dark night, leaving her alone with her confusion.

_-Gabe-_

_He was buried next to her mother even though they were divorced, but she decided he would appreciate it._

When she exited the shower and found her red lace thong on top of her jeans instead of the pair of underwear she'd originally grabbed, she didn't question it. Not because she was in denial, but simply because she didn't want to know what kind of ghost had a thing for red lace.

_-Missouri-_

_She'd never met the woman, but Sam insisted so she helped him bury the psychic that had helped his family years before._

"So, what are you?"

Chloe looked up from her coffee at the man sitting across from her. Even with her heightened, hunter senses, he'd managed to slip into the booth across from her without her knowledge. His green eyes were dark with interest.

"Uh, human." She wrinkled her brow in confusion. "You?"

He shrugged. "Human, I guess." With a dark smirk, he leaned closer to her and met her gaze. "But you, Sweetheart, are not human."

"Really?" Chloe deadpanned, resisting the urge to slide out of the booth and away from the stranger. "And why's that?" There was something in his eyes that held her attention. They looked familiar, but she knew she'd never met the man before in her life.

"Humans don't live this long," he said simply.

Chloe frowned and moved to stand. "This long? You mean twenty-six years?"

"No, I mean two hundred years." He glared at her, studying her like she would have studied an unfamiliar creature. Looking for a weakness.

Chloe glared back. "You're a hunter."

"Not anymore," he replied. He leaned back and gave her one last lingering stare before standing. "Keep up the good work," he said, but she wasn't sure if it was a compliment.

_-Pete-_

_Unlike the friends she'd collected over the years, he had a normal funeral, with an actual body in the coffin—that she kept an eye on just incase._

She dreamt of strong arms holding her gently—arms that had never been that close. And when she woke the next morning, she was only partially surprised to see the other side of the bed rumpled with use.

_-Jo-_

_She knew the girl only from stories and brief encounters, but she made sure the hunter had a funeral that was fitting for her successful career._

The werewolf growled in pain as Chloe stabbed it with her silver knife. It stumbled and threw its head back, howling loud enough to send shivers down her spine. Before it's call ended, she pulled out her gun and fired two deadly shots then spun and waited for the rest of the pack to attack.

Packs of werewolves were rare, but she'd run across enough to know how to handle them.

After two minutes of silence, she moved forward, searching the dark alleys for signs of life. A werewolf wouldn't call for help if none was coming. There had to be werewolves around, waiting to attack her.

As she rounded another corner, she tripped over something heavy and glanced down. A body lay at her feet, two shots in its chest. A little farther down the alley another body lay, victim of the same attack. The werewolf's backup had been killed before it could hear the call.

Someone was helping her.

"Hello?"

She wasn't surprised when no one answered.

-_Lana-_

_She laid a dozen pink roses on the coffin, knowing somewhere the former cheerleader/waitress/billionaire's wife was smiling in amusement._

Her necklace broke during a hunt and she was forced to carry her charm in her pocket like she had centuries earlier. The next morning, she woke to find the charm dangling from a new bracelet and the feel of familiar calloused hands rubbing her fingers.

­­­

-_Sam-_

_She gave up hunting for months after burning his body, saddened by the knowledge that even in death he wouldn't be reunited with his brother—but maybe he'd be okay with everyone else._

"Took you long enough," the man said as Chloe walked over. He didn't move his gaze from the headstone in front of him, but she could see him smiling softly.

"Your clues suck," she argued, standing next to him and resting a soft hand on the carved name.

The man leaned over and rested his hand next to hers, tracing the name slowly. "How?" he asked.

"Old age." At his disbelieving gaze she shrugged. "Plus one nasty horde of demons."

"He kept fighting. Good."

Chloe crossed her arms and studied the man beside her. Similar green eyes and smartass smirk, but this wasn't the man she'd known. Although, after centuries nothing stayed the same—save her physical age.

"Say it," he said, reading her thoughts.

_Dean?_ She silently asked, but stopped herself. That's not what he'd meant. Chloe frowned, hesitation creeping up like a distant memory. She wasn't hesitant anymore. She was a well-seasoned hunter. She knew what to do.

"_Christo._"

When his eyes flashed black, hers welled with tears.

_-Clark-_

_She burned his body out of precaution then buried the ashes with her cousin and their long line of descendants. _

The radio stayed on rock, the car purred in a way it never had for her and at night she imagined what might have been had a certain family not been cut short so prematurely.

_-Dean-_

_Years after his death, she did the one thing his brother had never been able to, she laid his body to rest._

Chloe doodled a devil's trap, watching the man pace at the foot of her bed. "Why not?" he demanded.

"It's not time."

"Not time? And when will it be time?"

"When I find a different solution." She finished the sketch and showed it to him, watching him stiffen. "I could always lock you up until then."

"No."

"Then stop complaining."

She crawled to the end of the bed and sat on her knees to face him. "You better be taking care of him," she said, resting a hand on the chest that didn't really belong to him. "If you've killed him, I'll send you right back where you came from."

He smirked slowly and leaned closer. "That so?"

"_Christo!_" she spat.

He jerked and stumbled back. "Fine, fine! I'll be careful. Besides, you know how hard it is to find another body that looks enough like me?"

She remembered fuller lips and deeper eyes, and shook her head. "He doesn't look like you."

He took a tentative step towards her, testing the water. When she didn't spit more Latin at him, he rested a hand on her cheek. "Not everything changes, though."

It was wrong, and Chloe was determined to fix it, but not until she had a different solution than exorcism and hellfire. Even if she had to spend forever alone, that didn't mean the they had to.

He was finally out, but he couldn't stay. She was sure Sam was waiting for his big brother.

­_-Chloe-_

_She waited until they lowered the empty casket then walked away, leaving her name and life behind. _

* * *

**A/N: **I'm working on the new season for Crossing Kansas, since both shows premiered Thursday. So, the webisodes are over, but the show is back :D


	25. Coming Back: season two premiere

_Four weeks later (June)…_

Chloe raked a hand through her hair, attempting to sort her thoughts. Too much had happened in such a short amount of a time, and she felt her mind reeling. It probably didn't help that her brain had somehow been supercharged.

Clark was hurt, maybe dead, and had been whisked off by some super powered being.

Lana was gone, not dead, but not coming back anytime soon.

She swallowed, letting her hand fall to the empty space on her chest. When she'd been arrested, all of her possessions on her person had been taken into custody. Hair clips and bracelets, she could live without, but it felt strangely wrong to be missing her necklace. The necklace with the special charm the Winchesters had given her months before.

"Dean…" she mumbled, remembering the last name on her list of estranged friends. It had been a month since Dean's deal had come due and thanks to Lex and the pseudo-DDS prison, she'd never known what the outcome of the deal had been. _Please no_, she thought, even as dread settled in her stomach.

She grabbed her cell phone and dialed Sam's number from memory. "We're sorry, you have reached a number that has been disconnected." Chloe hung up, staring at the phone for a moment. Disconnected? That didn't mean what she thought it did, did it?

"He said he'd call me, no matter what," she mumbled to herself, although it was hard to know if he'd tried, since she'd lost her phone in prison, too. "Sam…"

She dialed Bobby's number, praying someone would pick up. She needed answers, even if they weren't something she wanted to know.

"Hello?"

"Bobby? It's Chloe Sullivan."

There was a pause, and she thought he'd hung up until he started speaking again. "Chloe? It's been a while."

"Yeah, long story. I was just calling because of…well…Sam said he'd call me and he hasn't. Is he okay?" She braced herself, expecting the worst.

"He's alive, if that's what you mean. But okay? Doubt it."

_No!_ Chloe cringed, the phone almost falling from her grasp. He hadn't made it; Dean was dead. He hadn't survived his deal. Bobby didn't need to say it. "Bobby…" she started, tears choking her words. "Bobby, I'm…"

"Me too, kid."

Chloe swallowed around the lump in her throat, attempting momentary control. "Where is Sam?"

"I wish I knew. He took off almost as soon as we buried Dean."

"You buried him?"

"Yeah."

"Where?"

"Outside of Pontiac, Illinois."

Chloe nodded, even though he couldn't see it. She wanted to ask more, to know why they'd buried him. Why Pontiac? Why had Sam disappeared? But she couldn't get the questions out. Instead, she said goodbye and hung up.

Dropping her head into her hands, she cried like she hadn't allowed herself to do all those weeks in lockup.

"I'm sorry, Sam."

* * *

"Let's just pretend it didn't happen," Jimmy said, watching her carefully.

Chloe felt a familiar sense of anxiety wash over as he spoke. Life really found enjoyment in pushing her to her limits. After everything, he was just going to take back his proposal? After all she'd been through, she had to watch another man pull away?

"So you're rescinding the offer?" she asked, clenching her fist to keep her emotions in check.

"No," Jimmy answered. "No, I just…I don't want an answer. I don't want things to change between us."

Chloe blinked, trying to remember the answer she'd been ready to give him weeks earlier, before her arrest. Before everything had been royally screwed up. She couldn't remember, or she didn't want to. Either way, she knew what her answer was now, what it needed to be, because she wasn't letting another person slip away.

"Yes."

"Great," Jimmy sighed, misunderstanding. "Things will go back to the way they were."

She laughed, swallowing her anxiety and focusing on the man in front of her. "No, Jimmy…_yes_."

A moment later, Chloe closed her eyes as his arms wrapped around her. _Please don't leave me_, she thought. _I need someone._ She frowned, mentally correcting herself. _I need you._

* * *

_Three months later…_

Chloe pulled up the article and frowned. "Woah," she whispered, reading about the damage to a small wooded area outside of Pontiac, Illinois. "What's going on?"

* * *

It felt good to be back behind the wheel. IPod jack aside, his baby hadn't changed. He had a feeling she was the one thing that hadn't changed during his time in Hell. Even if he said he wasn't, Dean had a feeling Sam was keeping something about his powers from him. Immunity? That had to mean something big.

Dean ran a hand over the steering wheel, remembering one thing he hadn't asked Sam about. "So, uh, how's our favorite reporter?"

Sam looked over in surprise. "Chloe? I don't know. I haven't talked to her for months."

"Months? Why not, Sam? What was so important you had to go AWOL and ignore everybody?"

Sam visibly swallowed, not meeting his gaze. "My brother died."

Dean sighed, turning his attention back to the road. He'd expected that answer, but he'd been hoping Sam would keep in touch with at least _someone_ after his death. He hated the thought of his brother spending months alone. "Did you tell her, at least?" he asked, curiosity keeping him from killing the painful conversation completely.

"Bobby did. About a month afterwards."

"A month?"

"Yeah, right after that night, she kind of disappeared. I couldn't track her down; her phone was disconnected. She finally got a hold of Bobby a month later."

"She called Bobby?" Dean shook his head in confusion. "I wonder why she suddenly popped up again."

Sam looked out the window, uncomfortable with the information he had. "She was held prisoner. Lex Luthor had people studying her."

Dean cringed and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "Because of her powers?"

"I guess so. She didn't tell me much."

"When did you talk to her?"

"Right after she got a hold of Bobby." Sam shrugged. "She just showed up."

"She found you?"

Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah."

Dean paused, before speaking again. The familiar sense of necessity creeping up. Chloe thought he was dead. Maybe he should keep it that way. _Yeah, 'cause that worked so well the last time_.

"We should tell her."

"We will."

* * *

Sam ran a hand over his face, trying to grasp the events of the night. As he moved around the motel, stuffing various pieces of clothing into his duffel he felt the weight of his cell phone in his pocket.

Ever since his brother's question in the Impala he'd been tempted to call her. He knew she'd want to know Dean was alive. She deserved to know, after everything they'd been through—before _and_ after Dean's death—but he was still hesitant. Their lives were more screwed up than they'd ever been. Did he really have the right to pull her into it again?

"Sam, hurry it up. I wanna get some shut-eye before we head out tomorrow," Dean said from the couch.

Sam smiled at his brother's attempt at annoyance. "Yeah, yeah."

"Did you call her yet?" Dean asked, reading his thoughts.

"Chloe? No, not yet. It's two o'clock in the morning. I think I'll wait." He looked over at Dean. "And why am I calling her? You're the one who just came back from the dead. You should call her."

"She won't believe it, coming from Dean," Bobby responded, giving Dean a knowing look. "She needs to hear it from you."

"Like I'm a more credible source," Sam argued. "We haven't talked in months."

* * *

Dean groaned at the knock on the door. Whoever it was, better have a good excuse for showing up at four in the morning. He glanced over at Sam's bedroom door, wondering if he could hear the knocking. Bobby was down the hall, too far away to know they had an early morning visitor.

He rubbed at his eyes and glanced through the peephole. _Holy…_ The view woke him up fully. He shot his brother's room another glance, wondering what he should do. This wasn't how it was supposed to go down.

Another knock and he grasped the door handle, bracing himself. The door swung open and she blinked up at him, her eyes widening in shock.

"Hey, Chlo'," he mumbled, giving her a brief wave.

She kept staring for a moment, and he imagined he could see her thought process in her eyes. It was the same process Bobby and Sam had gone through.

Unfortunately, she didn't move the same as Bobby and Sam. Instead of lunging with a knife, she pulled out a gun and aimed for his heart. She moved forward, forcing him back into the room. "Who are you?"

Dean threw up his hands, looking back at Sam's room. "Dean Winchester."

"The same Dean Winchester who died four months ago? The same Dean Winchester who was ripped to shreds by hell hounds?" Chloe cocked the gun. "I was in the morgue once, remember? I know what happens to dead bodies."

"Chloe—" Dean started, then stopped when Sam walked from his room, a startled look on his face.

"Chloe?" He looked between the two of them then down at her gun. Realization clicked and he stepped forward. "Chloe, it's him. I promise."

"But you said…" She hesitated, dropping her arms to her side. "How?"

Dean shrugged, relaxing a little. "Your guess is as good as ours." He watched her study him, still looking for a crack in the façade despite Sam's assurance. He almost smiled, knowing he would have been disappointed if she hadn't been skeptical. "Apparently the get out of jail free card came with a makeover."

A small smile graced Chloe's face as she holstered her gun. "Too bad you couldn't get any improvements." Dean rolled his eyes, relieved he'd once again been downgraded from threat status. He was really getting tired of people pointing weapons at him.

"Can't improve perfection."

Chloe shook her head and stepped forward. "I'm glad you're back, Dean." When she reached up to wrap him in a hug, he was ready. This part of coming back from the dead he liked best. "Don't do that again, okay?" she said into his shoulder.

Dean chuckled, resting a hand on the back of her head. "I'll try."

She stepped back and looked over at Sam. "It's good to see you, too. It's been a while."

Sam nodded, looking strangely uncomfortable. "Yeah."

* * *

Chloe settled into a chair as the brothers sat on either end of the pullout bed. She glanced over at Dean and resisted the urge to study him. Coming back from the dead shouldn't really surprise her, of all people, but it was still strange. It was one thing to come back to life, but another to be pulled out of Hell.

"So, you've been watching the city?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, just in case. With all the crazy stuff you two are mixed up in I figured it couldn't hurt." She pulled her gaze to Sam. He didn't look any different from the last time she'd seen him, but she knew better. "I heard about the small bomb that went off two days ago and tracked you here."

"How were you able to keep tabs on Sam?" Dean asked. "Bobby couldn't even do that."

Chloe shrugged. "He's not me."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sam's eyes flashed briefly, but she couldn't tell if it was anger or fear. Both she guessed, considering what he'd been up to since Dean's death. _Another secret to keep_, she thought, wondering if her enlarged brain power would help keep the secrets in place.

"You never asked." She met his gaze carefully, making sure he understood her. "And I figured you'd get a hold of me if you needed me."

She could feel Dean's eyes on her as she talked, studying her words, but she didn't look at him. Sam's secrets weren't hers to tell, even if she believed Dean deserved to know. "So," Dean started, and she braced for the question, "anything exciting happen while I was gone?"

"I'm engaged," Chloe blurted, taking the potential change in topic and running with it. The sooner they moved from Sam and his secrets the more relaxed she'd feel.

"Engaged?" Dean blinked, finally noticing the ring on her finger. Granted, it wasn't exactly a diamond, but she knew with Jimmy it was the thought that counted. "Who's the lucky guy?"

"Jimmy."

Chloe watched his expression and felt the sudden urge to pull the conversation back to Sam. It was obvious her engagement was not the change in topic Dean had had in mind.

"Your ex?" Sam asked.

"Yeah." She fiddled with the ring, for the first time in a long time feeling self conscious of the plastic piece of jewelry. "Surprise," she joked, humorlessly.

"Wow," Dean nodded, offering her a wry smile. "Congratulations."

Chloe dropped her gaze to the bed. Dean was back from the dead, Sam was messing with forces he shouldn't be—and lying about it—but it was her engagement that had the power to kill the conversation.

"Thanks."

To Be Continued…


	26. Looming Problems

**Summary:** Chloe learns of the apocalypse.

_June…_

The small patch of woods was eerily quiet as Chloe walked through. Up ahead, she could see the small clearing she'd been looking for. Sunlight streamed through the trees, spotlighting the makeshift grave marker.

A wooden cross. Chloe would have been amused if it weren't so sad.

"Hey Dean," she said, standing at the foot of the grave and trying not to imagine the body beneath her. She still didn't understand why his body hadn't been burned, but who was she to question Sam?

She played with the plastic ring on her left ring finger and frowned. "I haven't found Sam, yet. Actually, I haven't tried yet, but I'll find him. He's good at hiding, but I'm better at seeking."

Her words were met with silence so she kept talking, ignoring the too calm feeling of the woods. "I'm heading over to Bobby's next. I figured I should get another charm since the first one was stolen. Just what I need is to get possessed when no one is here to save me." She winced at her words and held up a hand apologetically. "Sorry. I didn't mean that."

Her throat tightened and she blinked back tears, unconsciously pulling her ring on and off her finger. "I'm engaged," she mused. "And you are the first person I've told, congratulations. Now I just have to tell Clark. Maybe he'll take it as well as you are."

Her vision blurred suddenly and she wiped at her eyes, smearing mascara across her cheek. But it didn't matter, because no one was there to see her cry. "I'll look after Sam," she continued. "I promise."

She turned to leave, but hesitated turning back to the cross.

"I miss you."

* * *

_Now…_

"I'm sorry," Chloe whispered, inching backwards to the fireplace. "Please, Max I'm so sorry."

Max Taylor sneered, his image flickering briefly, reminding her she wasn't dealing with her old editor. She was dealing with his spirit—his very pissed spirit. "Sorry doesn't really mean much now, does it?"

"If I had known," she continued, feeling the rough texture of the bricks against her shoulders.

"You what? Would have killed the story? Please, Chloe don't lie to me. All you care about is the story."

Chloe frowned at the painful jab. "No," she said. "That's not true."

Before Max could argue, she grabbed the fire poker and swung, dissipating his spirit. The room warmed for a moment before another image flickered to life in front of her. Jake Pollen, the boy who had tried to drown Lana their junior year of high school.

"Hi Chloe, remember me? Fish boy?" He glared. "It's your fault I'm dead."

* * *

Dean dumped the pile of salt back into its container, checking his work. Aside from a few stray pieces of paper, the library was back to normal.

"Dean, we should call Chloe," Sam said, walking into the room.

"Why?" Dean asked, noticing the slight fear in his brother's tone. "What's up?"

"She's called me five times since we headed to Bobby's panic room and left me two messages begging me to call her."

Dean frowned, digging through his pockets for his phone. Sure enough, when he flipped it open the screen informed him he had missed calls and new messages. As he moved to listen to the messages, his phone started ringing, Chloe's number coming up on the screen. "It's her," he told Sam.

"Chloe?"

He heard her let out a deep breath before responding. "Dean, it's about time. Where have you been? I thought—where are you?"

Dean met Sam's gaze and shrugged. "Bobby's place."

"Good, I'm about ten minutes out. I'll see you then. Don't go anywhere." Without waiting for an answer, she hung up and Dean followed suit, looking from his phone to his brother.

"Well?" he asked.

"She's coming over."

True to her word, her car pulled into the junkyard ten minutes later. Dean greeted her at the door, but froze when he saw the bandage on her hand. "What happened?"

She looked down at the bandage like she'd forgotten it as there. "Cut it on a fire poker. Those things aren't as smooth as I thought."

"Fire poker?" Dean asked, remembering the one he'd held in his hands hours before, using it as a weapon against the witnesses.

Chloe shrugged, moving inside the house. "Not everyone has a shotgun tucked under their bed." She pulled off her coat and tossed it onto the closest surface. "I was attacked in my house by the spirits of people I hadn't seen for years."

"_You_ were attacked?" Sam asked, joining them in the living room. "But you aren't a hunter."

Chloe looked between the brothers confused. "Why do I get the feeling you know why the dead made a house call?"

"Because it happened to us, too." Dean ran a hand through his hair, sitting down on the couch. "It happened to a lot of hunters we knew across the country."

"But I'm not a hunter," Chloe said repeating Sam's words.

"Doesn't matter," Bobby said from the doorway. He grabbed a chair and sat across from the three of them on the couch. "You're close enough. You've helped hunters. _And_ you know someone who died, who you couldn't help."

At his words, Chloe looked down at her hands. "That's putting it lightly."

Dean met Sam's eyes over Chloe's head, wondering what the reporter had gone through. "It wasn't not your fault," he assured.

Chloe shook her head. "Yes it was. They were right. All those people died because I was too focused on getting the story, or exposing the meteor freaks."

"How many?" Sam asked, sounding worried.

"Four." She frowned. "And three of them were meteor infected. They died because I was too interested in exposing their powers."

"Chloe—"

"Four?" Bobby said, cutting Dean off. "How did you stop them?" he asked, impressed.

Chloe looked up with a wry smile. "I didn't do anything. They just stopped on their own. One of them, my old editor, had his arm…in me." She pointed to her heart, looking unsettled. "I thought he was going to pull my heart out. Then they just disappeared into this white light. I didn't stick around for an encore. I tried to get a hold of you guys and decided to head to Bobby's when no one answered their phone. I figured you guys could tell me what had happened."

Dean met Bobby's gaze, wondering how much they should tell Chloe. She knew about Castiel, but did she really need to know about everything else? Maybe it would be better to keep her in the dark about the whole apocalypse-thing. Bobby shook his head at Dean's question, giving him a clear answer. _Tell her, moron._

"All those spirits raising from the grave were witnesses, a sign," Dean explained.

"Of?"

"The apocalypse."

Chloe laughed humorlessly, tugging at her bandage. "Of course they were."

* * *

"So, what do we do now?" Chloe asked as they sat around Bobby's kitchen table, pretending to eat takeout. "I mean, we fight, right?"

"We?" Dean asked, the protective tone in his voice evident.

Sam shot him a look before answering Chloe. "We don't know _what_ to fight yet. All we know is it's someone powerful pulling the strings."

"Maybe it's God's will," Dean muttered, jabbing at a piece of chicken.

"Maybe you should ask your angel," Chloe countered, pointing at him with her chopstick. "He pulled you from Hell, he must know something."

"Good idea, let's summon him again," he snarked.

Sam rolled his eyes. Before she had left Pontiac, Dean had told Chloe about his angel. In fact, he'd told everyone about his encounter with Castiel at the same time. Sam was willing to bet it was one of the few times in her life where Chloe was the least curious one in the room. She'd barely batted an eye at Dean's information, willing to believe instantly that he'd been saved by an angel.

Sam and Bobby had needed a little more information—though not much more.

Chloe sighed. "Well, who else? Wanna summon Lilith, see what she knows?" she asked sarcastically.

"Yeah, good plan," Dean shot back. "It's not like I call and Castiel comes running. He's not _my_ angel. I'm sure he'll show up when he's good and ready."

"And in the meantime, we find a way to stop whatever has started," Sam added.

"Sounds like more reading," his brother grumbled.

* * *

A few hours later, Chloe slung her purse over her shoulder, glancing at her watch. If she found a hotel in Nebraska, she'd be able to make good time the next day.

"Where are you going?" Bobby asked from behind her.

She turned, startled by the older man's appearance. "I was going to head out. It's getting late, I should be going."

"Stay here," Bobby offered, his words sounding more like an order than a suggestion.

"Bobby, I can't." Chloe looked towards the second floor where she knew the Winchesters were showering and getting ready to call it a night. "You don't have room for me."

"The boys'll stay down here," Bobby replied. "I've got a mat upstairs one of them can use, and that couch isn't as uncomfortable as it looks."

_Yeah right,_ she thought, remembering what it felt like to sit on the old piece of furniture. "Bobby…" she started, feeling torn.

Footsteps sounded in the doorway as Dean joined them, his hair still wet from the shower. "Stay," he said. "You aren't getting out of research that easily."

Chloe shook her head, biting back a smile. "Fine, but I insist on sleeping on the couch. There's no reason you two should both give up a bed."

Bobby shook his head. "The boys'll be fine. And I only have one spare room."

"With two beds," Chloe added, remembering the layout from her last brief visit, before Dean's resurrection.

"Looking for a roommate?" Dean teased with a smirk. She smiled back, before noticing the way his smirk died when he eyed her ring.

An uncomfortable silence settled over them as Chloe grasped for an answer. Bobby looked between them curiously. After a beat, he rolled his eyes and pointed to Chloe. "You're sleeping upstairs. Sam and Dean will stay down here. This isn't a slumber party." With that, he moved past Dean and marched upstairs towards his bedroom.

"So, that means no makeovers?" Chloe joked, relieved when Dean's face softened into a smile.

"Maybe Sammy'll let you braid his hair."

Chloe laughed, stuffing her left hand into her pocket. "I think I'll pass." She moved to the couch and sank into the old cushions. "Are you really going to be okay down here?"

Dean shrugged. "We've slept in worse places." He sat on the other end from her, resting his back against the arm of the couch. "It's only one night."

"Yeah." Chloe picked at the fabric, avoiding Dean's gaze for a moment. "So," she started. "Were those witnesses real?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, were they really spirits of people who had died?" Chloe looked up at him, hoping he'd understand her meaning. _Did they all really blame me for their death?_

"Yes, but that anger they had wasn't real. They were forced to rise from their graves."

"I still wish I had done something to save them. All those people, and not just the spirits who attacked me, died because I couldn't help them."

Dean locked eyes with her, like he wanted her to focus on his words. "You can't live in guilt. Maybe you could have saved them, maybe not. But there's no going back. As hard as it is, you have to move on."

_Move on._ It hadn't been too long ago she'd been trying to do that with Dean's death. "Some deaths you don't just move on from."

* * *

Dean blinked at Chloe's words. He knew she was talking about him. He wished she wasn't, but he knew she was. She was engaged, had a full life back in Smallville, but his death had still hurt her. _I'm sorry,_ he thought, the words dying on his tongue. He didn't want to talk about his death any more than he wanted her to have been hurt by it.

"You better get to sleep. I'll let Sam know about the change in plans." He stood and waited for her to join him before moving to the stairs.

As he mounted the first step, Chloe grabbed his arm. "You know you're worth saving, right?" she asked.

Dean remembered arguing with Sam and Bobby about why God had chosen him. Why him? What was so important about him? He doubted Chloe had the answers, but he still had to ask. "Why?"

She squeezed his forearm, a small smile gracing her lips. "Because, you _are_ important."

He recognized his own words from months ago, before his death and resurrection, and the lingering apocalypse. "Thanks," he mumbled, unsure of what else to say.

* * *

Sam watched his brother sleep as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He heard movement on the floor above and guessed Chloe and Bobby were awake. He was glad to have Chloe back in their lives, but he couldn't help the anxiety that crept up whenever she was alone with his brother. She had promised to keep his secret until he decided to tell Dean about his powers, but he still couldn't help but worry she'd slip up.

He moved back into the living room as his brother woke. Dean rubbed at his eyes, looking like he was trying to shake a bad dream.

"You alright?" he asked, slipping on his shirt. "What's wrong, Dean?"

"So, you've got no problem believing in God and angels?" Dean asked instead of answering.

"No, not really."

Dean studied him, looking uneasy. "So, I guess that means you believe in the Devil?"

To Be Continued...


	27. Brief Conversations

_Before…_

Sam looked up when someone knocked on his door. It wasn't a maid, he'd put up the do not disturb sign. Bobby, maybe?

Glancing through the peephole, he frowned. He should have know.

"Hey Chloe," he greeted, stepping back to let the blonde inside.

She gave him an appraising once over, before studying the room. "Nice place," she observed, raising an eyebrow at the pictures on the wall. "Wasn't easy to find."

"That's the point," Sam said, shutting the door behind her. He moved to keep packing his duffel bag, watching her study the room. She looked different. He wasn't quite sure how, but something about her was off.

"I thought I asked you to call me," she argued, turning to face him again. Her eyes darkened momentarily as she glared.

Sam glared back, surprised by the anger. Dean was the one who lost his temper around her, not him. _Guess I really am more like him,_ he thought. "I tried calling you. Your phone isn't working."

Chloe paused, running a hand over his laptop. "Good point." She turned and stepped closer to him. "Listen Sam, I'm sorry." She pressed a hand against his chest, meeting his eyes. "I'm sorry about Dean. I should have been there."

"You couldn't have done anything," Sam argued, stepping away from her. He didn't want her to comfort him anymore than he'd wanted to stay at Bobby's. He was going to get Dean back and he didn't need pity distracting him.

Chloe shrugged, resting a hand on her hip. "Oh I don't know." She smirked. Her eyes darkened again, turning completely black. "I'm sure I could have figured something out."

Sam glared, not amused. "Ruby."

* * *

_Now…_

Chloe didn't look up when someone knocked at her door. "Is it the end of the world as we know it?" she asked, continuing to make her bed. It was unlikely Bobby would ever get to tidying up the room.

"Hilarious," Dean deadpanned from the doorway. "When the end does come, I hope you can keep your sense of humor."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "I'll try my best. What's up?"

"Breakfast run and I need another pair of hands."

"Breakfast run?" Chloe questioned, finally turning to face him. As soon as she got a good look at his face she froze. "Dean, what's wrong?"

He shrugged. "The end of the world?"

Chloe frowned at his flip remark, walking over to him. "You didn't look like this yesterday. Did something else happen? Did Castiel pay you another visit?"

"How did you know?" he asked, surprised.

"I didn't. I'm just a good guesser." Chloe sat down on the end of one of the beds, gesturing for him to join her. _Maybe super guessing is another one of my powers,_ she mused.

"Castiel told me the witnesses were one of sixty-six seals."

"Please tell me you mean Sea World," Chloe said, knowing the answer.

Dean shook his head at her comment, studying his hands for a moment. "I'm sorry, Chloe."

"For?"

"Getting you involved in this."

"'This' what? The apocalypse?" Chloe shook her head, leaning back on her hands. "Dean, it isn't your fault." She nudged his leg with her knee, forcing him to look at her. "Now tell me about these poor seals."

Dean chuckled, rolling his eyes. "They're locks for a door."

"Lucifer," Chloe whispered, the connection suddenly clicking. "The apocalypse means the devil will roam the earth."

"Sunday school?" Dean guessed.

Chloe shrugged. "Sure, go with that." She sat up, resting her chin on her hand. "Holy cow, the devil."

"Yep."

There was a pause as Chloe processed the information. After a beat, she stood and offered Dean a hand up. "So…breakfast?" she tried with fake enthusiasm.

"Gotta have a last meal, right?" Dean agreed.

Chloe shook her head, patting him on the back as he left. "That's the spirit."

* * *

"What happened when I was dead?" Dean asked.

After a moment, he stepped back from the mirror and shook his head. "What happened with you and Sam? Why can't you two look each other in the eye anymore? Why is my brother keeping things from me?"

Not surprisingly, the empty room didn't answer for Chloe. He looked back in the mirror and frowned.

Chloe was different. Not as different as his brother, but there was something changed about her. Something she didn't want to share. He had no idea what it could be, but ever since she'd shown up after his resurrection he'd sensed something off.

_She'll tell me when she wants to, _he thought. _Right around the time I tell her I'm having nightmares of hell._

He ran a hand over his face, trying to quiet his thoughts. Chloe seemed to have become better at reading him and he didn't need her to read his thoughts when he left the bathroom. Splashing cold water on his face, he dried off and headed back towards the library where Bobby and Sam were looking through books.

"Anything?" he asked.

Bobby looked up at him slowly. "You mean some way to stop the devil from rising?"

"Uh yeah." He watched Bobby's expression and shook his head. "You know what, never mind. Where's Chloe?"

"Outside packing her car."

"She's leaving?" Dean questioned.

Bobby shot him another look before returning to his book. "Girl's got a life back home, she can't stay here forever."

Dean didn't respond as he walked outside. _I know, _he thought. Chloe's car was outside, but the owner was nowhere to be seen. Resting a hand on his gun, he circled the car, expecting to find her digging around in the back seat.

"Chloe?" he called when he realized she wasn't there. "Please don't let this be another seal," he muttered as he pulled out his gun and moved towards the junkyard.

He walked quickly through the junkyard, eyeing every car he passed. He couldn't help but remember Bobby being nearly suffocated inside a car. He wasn't going to let the same thing happen to Chloe.

"Chloe?" he tried again, ignoring the strain in his voice. "Come on, I thought we both agreed we didn't like hide and seek."

_If she's just messing with me I'm going to shoot her,_ he decided. _She's self-healing. It'll be fine._ He kept moving through the cars, listening for any sign of her. As he rounded another pile of cars, he spotted her resting against the bumper of an old van.

"Chloe," he called, watching her jump at his voice. He tucked his gun back in his waistband and hurried to her side. "What are you doing?"

She turned and blinked up at him, surprised by his sudden appearance. "Thinking," she replied.

Dean studied her face for a moment, wondering what would have had her so lost in thought. The end of the world? His resurrection? Her fiancé? He settled next to her, noticing the way she scratched at her bandage. "Has it healed yet?" he asked, knowing better than to question her thoughts. People had a right to their own thoughts and they'd share them if they wanted to.

"Nope."

Dean nodded. "So, you can only heal other people?"

Chloe met his gaze and he had the impression he was being judged. The difference he'd sensed in her eyes after their reunion was evident in her gaze. "My powers changed," she admitted after a beat.

"Changed? How?"

"I don't know. One minute I can heal people and the next…" she trailed off, scuffing her shoe into the dirt. "I'm a super genius."

Dean raised an eyebrow at her admission. "Well that's a new one. So you can what, finish sudoku in seconds?"

Chloe shrugged. "Never tried it, but while I was 'in prison'," she said quoting the words with a wry smirk, "they put me up against their most powerful computer. Guess who won?"

"Whoa," Dean breathed, slightly relieved by the news. Her healing powers were useful, but they weren't worth the risk to her life. He frowned thoughtfully, bumping her shoulder. "You and Sam aren't going to rub your intelligence in my face now, are you?"

The tension from Chloe's face evaporated as she smiled. "I'll resist the urge."

"Good, 'cause my ego can only take so much."

"I'm sure."

Dean smiled back, crossing his arms and turning his gaze to the junkyard in front of them. "So, are you ready to leave?"

"Trying to get rid of me, Winchester?" Chloe joked.

"No way. With your superbrain that means I've got less reading to do."

Chloe laughed, shaking her head. "I'm so glad my powers can help you."

"So, you're going to stay?"

"Yeah, I think I should. I'd just be heading home to research anyway." She fiddled with her ring before continuing. "Hey, Dean can you do me a favor."

"Sure," Dean replied, unsure of her request.

"Don't tell Sam about my powers."

"Why not?"

Chloe shrugged, attempting to look casual. "I just don't want him to know yet. It's not something I wanted to spread around so soon."

_But you told me_, Dean wanted to argue, but didn't. "Okay. I promise."

"Thanks."

* * *

"You're brother's working with Ruby," Chloe stated. She crossed her arms, trying to keep her face emotionless. "He's been messing with his powers, learning how to exorcise demons with his mind."

She laughed, nodding at her own words. "Yeah, I know. Crazy, right?"

"You promised, Chloe," she mumbled, turning away from her reflection. "You promised him you wouldn't tell Dean."

Reaching for the door handle, she frowned._ Sam, we need to talk, _she decided._ This has gone on long enough._

To Be Continued…


	28. Weakened Promise

**A/N: **Sorry for the delay. Busy week. But I've got two chapters to make up for it :)

* * *

_Before…_

"Ruby, what the hell," Sam ground out, watching Chloe's eyes shift back to their normal green.

"Nice choice of words," she snarked, crossing her arms. "What's the big deal? You've been wondering what happened to her and now you know where she is."

Sam glared, grabbing her collar. "Let her go," he demanded, resisting the urge to punch the smirk off her face. He wouldn't be hurting Ruby.

"Geez," Ruby muttered, pulling out of his grasp. "You've never had a problem before."

_That was different._ Sam thought, but kept it to himself. "Just do it. Now."

"Why Sam? Are you afraid she'll learn your secret? Why are you so afraid of letting anyone into your life? Dean's dead, you have to move on." Ruby opened her arms, gesturing to the body she possessed. "Why not move on with Chloe?"

Sam hesitated, his hand slipping into his back pocket where he kept a flask of holy water.

"I don't think Chloe would mind," Ruby continued. "You'd definitely be an improvement over the dork she's with now."

"Ruby," Sam started, his tone low with warning.

Ignoring his silent threat, Ruby stepped closer resting a hand on his chest like she had before. "You'd be doing her a favor, Sam," she said.

Sam watched her, imagining Chloe saying that to him. It didn't fit. It didn't sit right with him. She wouldn't say those things to _him._ And he wasn't so sure he'd want her to. "Ruby, I said now," he ordered, flicking the holy water at her like he would a disobedient pet.

Ruby hissed in pain and stumbled back. She glared as the water evaporated. "Come on Sam, you can do better than that. What about your powers?"

"You want me to send you back to Hell?" Sam asked, knowing the answer.

Ruby rolled her eyes. "Good point. Fine, I'll go." She gave him another smirk. "Good luck explaining this, though." With that, she disappeared, leaving a fallen Chloe in her wake.

Sam knelt beside the reporter, checking her pulse. "You're lucky, Ruby," he muttered, feeling her heart beat strongly against his fingers.

Chloe gasped, waking suddenly.

"Chloe?" Sam asked, watching her move to sit up.

She looked startled for a moment, before realization shone in her eyes. "Sam," she answered, her tone telling him more than he wanted to know. Ruby's words echoed in his head. _Good luck explaining._

* * *

_Now…_

"It's sad I had to resort to manipulation to get you alone with me," Chloe said, glancing at Sam in the driver's seat.

"Manipulation?" Sam asked, keeping his eyes on the road. "Asking me to pick up lunch with you is manipulation?"

"It is when I get Bobby to back me up."

Sam's mouth curved into a small smile, but he still wouldn't look at her. "What's so important that we couldn't talk at Bobby's."

Chloe just looked at him, knowing he could read her gaze without taking his eyes off the road. "Don't play stupid, Sam. It doesn't suit you."

He rolled his eyes, though she noticed his grip on the steering wheel tighten slightly. "What does Jimmy think of you being away so long?"

Chloe sighed. It was going to take a while to get Sam to stay focused. For the moment, she let the conversation shift. "I'm a big girl. I can do what I want."

"He doesn't know, does he?"

"Know about what?" she asked.

"Any of this. The apocalypse, the witnesses." He paused, finally pulling his gaze away from the road to look at her. "Me and Dean."

"He knows I have friends who think demons are real," she answered. "But the rest of the stuff I haven't mentioned."

"Why not?"

"He doesn't need to know. He doesn't need to worry about something he can't do anything about."

Sam let out a small laugh. "That's what Dean said about you."

Chloe nodded. "I bet, but unlike Jimmy I'm not just a naïve civilian."

"No," Sam agreed. "You're not."

There was a pause and Chloe started to talk, ready to shift the conversation back to more important things, but Sam cut her off.

"What's Jimmy like?"

"He's great," Chloe said simply, attempting to cut the distraction off. They were nearing town and they still hadn't talked about what she wanted to.

Sam looked at her, meeting her gaze in a way he hadn't since Dean's death. "Do you love him?"

"Sam…" Chloe started, before noticing something ahead of them. "Sam!" Her foot moved to slam on an imaginary brake.

Sam cursed as his foot slammed on the real brake. The Impala screeched to a stop inches from the two people standing in the middle of the road. "Stay here," he ordered, gripping Ruby's knife as he stepped out of the car.

Chloe opened her mouth to argue, but was cut off when he shut the door. "Do I have damsel tattooed on my forehead?" she muttered, watching Sam approach the human roadblocks. She reached for her purse as her door was yanked open.

One of the men from the road smirked down at her. "Join the party, Gorgeous." He grabbed her shirt and pulled her from the car, pressing her against the back door. With a sneer, he leaned forward and studied her, his eyes flashing black for a moment.

"You aren't Ruby," he said, his eyes returning to their normal color.

"No duh," Chloe snarked, swinging at his face. The demon grabbed her arm and held it, pinning her roughly against the door. She heard Sam grunt as he struggled with the other demon.

"Play nice," her captor warned, squeezing her hand suggestively.

"No." She glared, before rambling off an exorcism in one breath. Each word landed like a punch until the demon's grip loosened enough for her to push him away. As he stumbled to the ground, she finished the Latin, punctuating the last word with an irritated growl. She'd spent one day after her escape from prison studying the notebook Sam had given her. Apparently that was enough time for the exorcism to stay with her.

She barely gave the victim a glance before turning to Sam. His eyes were closed in concentration, a hand held towards the possessed man as it coughed up the demon inside him. She'd seen him use his powers once before, but there was still something unsettling about the silent exorcism.

It wasn't natural.

* * *

Sam pulled his fingers away from the victims neck, shaking his head. "Dead," he said, swallowing the disappointment. He hated when he was too late to save the victim.

He stood and looked over at Chloe, standing next to the other body. "They're both dead," he said uselessly.

Chloe's expression darkened as she glared at him. "This," she started, pointing to the body at her feet, "is exactly what I meant about Ruby. She's using innocent people. Do you even know if that body she's possessing is still alive?"

Sam glared back, annoyance settling in his gut. He didn't need this lecture from Chloe again. "I know what I'm doing, Chloe."

"Yeah? And what exactly are you doing?"

Instead of answering, he moved to the trunk and grabbed two shovels.

"Don't you dare ignore me, Winchester," Chloe continued. "You can't keep doing this." She walked to his side and grabbed his arm. Sam stiffened, moving to pull from her grip, but stopped when he saw her eyes. "Sam, please." She looked up at him gently. "I know how hard Dean's death was on you. I didn't agree with what you were doing with Ruby, but believe me, I understood it. But, please Sam. It's time to move on. Dean's back." She frowned. "Get rid of her."

Sam opened and closed his mouth, trying to figure out the right words to say. He felt torn. Chloe was right, he knew she was, but he couldn't stop. He was doing something good with his curse. He was saving people.

Chloe's frown deepened as he remained silent. After a beat, she grabbed a shovel from his hands and nodded. "Fine. But don't expect me to keep my mouth shut."

Sam jumped, her words snapping him out of silence. "You promised."

"I promised not to tell him about your powers. I never promised about Ruby." Chloe set the shovel aside and moved to the first body, hooking her hands under the arms to drag it into the woods.

"Fine," Sam blurted. "I'll tell him, just let me do it my way."

Chloe studied him, judging his words. Finally, she nodded. "Don't take your sweet time."

Sam nodded back as he moved to help her. "We're going to be late getting food," he muttered as they carried the body away from the view of the road.

"They'll survive," Chloe said simply.

Once the other body was in the woods, they worked in silence digging a shallow grave to burn the bodies in. Sam knew from experience it was easier to burn the bodies than let the authorities deal with them. He'd collect personal belongings from the victims and leave them in town hoping that was enough to let the family move on. He knew it wasn't, but he still had to hope, because he couldn't do anything else.

They continued to work in silence until they were headed back to Bobby's, a bag of food on the seat between them.

As they reached the junkyard, Chloe finally spoke, keeping her eyes locked on the house before them. "I'm going to head back today."

"Okay."

She turned to face him as he killed the engine. "Tell him, Sam."

"Yeah, I will."

* * *

Dean stood as soon as he heard the familiar rumble of the Impala. A moment later, Chloe stepped inside with a bag of food in her hand and a dirt stain on her jacket. "Are you okay?" he asked, meeting her at the door. Sam had called them earlier to fill them in on the demon run-in.

She nodded, handing him the food. "Yeah, I'm fine." She offered him a small smile before moving to grab her bag sitting on the dining room table.

"You're leaving?" Dean asked, watching Sam walk past them.

"Yeah, I've gotta get back."

"What happened to all the research?" Dean asked, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice. He liked having Chloe around, if only to keep him distracted from the apocalypse a little longer. "You aren't bailing on me, are you?"

Chloe shook her head, laughing a little. "I promise I'll do my part at home. But I've got some stuff I need to work on for Isis."

"Isis?" Dean cocked an eyebrow, remembering lore about the goddess.

"It's a foundation for meteor infected people. My friend who was running it left so I decided to take over," Chloe informed.

"That's nice of you," he commented with a wry smile.

Chloe smiled back. "Gee, thanks."

"So what happened to the _Planet_?"

Chloe shrugged. "I decided to take a break for a while. I've got more important things going on right now."

"You mean like the whole end-of-the-world-thing?" he joked, albeit stiffly.

She chuckled. "Yeah, once you learn the devil could escape, journalism just doesn't seem that important."

Dean nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. From the corner of his eye he saw her play with her ring, spinning it in slow circles. He wanted to ask her what Jimmy was like. Ask her why she'd changed her mind. But the words wouldn't come.

"I better go," Chloe said finally.

Dean stepped closer searching her eyes for an answer he knew she wouldn't verbalize. "Is everything okay, Chloe?"

"Yeah, Dean," she said. "Everything's fine." She gave his arm a brief squeeze before heading towards the door. "Tell Bobby thanks. I'm sorry I couldn't stay longer."

"Will do," Dean promised.

"_Yeah, Dean. Everything's fine."_ He frowned at her retreating figure.

_Liar._

To Be Continued…


	29. Shared Secret

**A/N: **This chapter takes place during and after "Metamorphosis"

_Now…_

Sam looked back as his brother, sleeping on the bed.

"_I know what I'm doing, Chloe."_

"_Yeah? And what exactly are you doing?"_

He needed to tell Dean everything. Even without Chloe's words constantly running through his head he knew that. Dean was going to be pissed, but not as pissed as he'd be if Sam kept lying to him.

Grabbing his coat, he gave Dean one last look before slipping out the door. _Later,_ he decided as Ruby's car pulled up.

"_Dean's back. Get rid of her."_

Sam slipped into the car without glancing at Ruby. _Later._

Dean watched Ruby help the man out of the warehouse before turning his gaze to Sam.

His brother. The same man who'd been lying to him for a month about his powers.

"Dean…" Sam started his tone soft.

Under any other circumstances, Dean knew he would have given in—he would have let Sam's tone win him over—but not this time. His brother had gone too far.

Without a word, he walked away.

"Dean!" Sam called, but made no move to follow.

_Good,_ Dean decided. _I don't really feel like fighting him again tonight_. He sighed. _Okay, maybe I do, _he thought, imagining a well-placed punch. He was the last one to wish harm on his brother, but sometimes Sam needed sense literally knocked into him.

He marched to the Impala and drove off, unsure of where he was going until he had pulled in front of a bar. He didn't really want to go in, but he didn't want to drive anymore.

"He lied to me," Dean said, gripping the steering wheel, taking his anger out on the only other thing he loved in his life. He should have known. He should have seen it coming. He'd sensed something off about his brother for the last month, but he'd just brushed it off as a result of being alone for four months.

Not because he was slumming it with a demon.

"_Hey, Dean can you do me a favor…Don't tell Sam about my powers."_

"I hate secrets," Dean grumbled, remembering Chloe's words. His grip loosened on the steering wheel, as his knuckles turned white. He ran a hand through his hair trying to sort his thoughts. His brother was heading down a dark path, but he could still be stopped. Dean could still convince him to turn back.

He just wished he'd seen it sooner.

"_Yeah, Dean. Everything's fine."_

Dean frowned, something clicking. Praying he was wrong, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed the familiar number.

"Dean?" Chloe answered after the third ring. "What's wrong? It's two in the morning?"

"Did you know?" Dean asked, silently begging her to say no.

"Know what?" Chloe asked, sounding confused, though he caught a hint of hesitation in her tone.

He remembered the look she'd given him before leaving Bobby's. She'd been so hesitant and he'd assumed it had something to do with his recent encounter with demons. Now, he wasn't so sure.

"About Sam." He tried to be as vague as possible on the off-chance she really didn't know.

Chloe hesitated and he felt his shoulders tense with anticipation. "Dean…" she started.

"Answer the question," Dean ground out, his heart dropping with realization.

She sighed. "Yes."

He closed his eyes, wondering how many more cheap shots people were going to take that night. First the revelation about his parents, then Sam and now Chloe. "Okay," he nodded, though she couldn't see him. "Goodbye, Chloe."

He flipped the phone shut, cutting off her protest. _Forget it. They don't need me. They can run around with their secrets and demon friends without me. I'm done._

He started the car again, deciding a drive was exactly what he needed. Then eventually he'd head back to the motel, get his stuff and leave. If Sam didn't need him then why should he stick around?

* * *

Chloe flipped through her computer files, attempting to keep her mind occupied. _This was so much easier when my brain capacity was lower,_ she mused, staring at the screen.

"_Goodbye, Chloe."_

"What did you do, Sam?" she murmured. She'd known Dean would be pissed once Sam's secret came out, but something in his tone had been off. She doubted Sam had told Dean willingly. Her guess was Dean had found out on his own.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

Somehow, she didn't think he'd be very forgiving this time around.

Unconsciously, her hand moved to her ring, spinning it slowly around her finger. She wasn't going to go through another Winchester-silence. There was too much going on to let it go on. Secret or not, they were in the middle of a potential apocalypse. "I'm sorry, Dean, but we've gotta move one."

* * *

"Have you talked to Chloe?" Sam asked, as they drove from Jack's house.

Dean shot Sam a look before returning his gaze to the road. "A couple days ago, why?"

Sam shrugged, playing with his cell phone in his pocket. "She called me yesterday."

"And?"

"And, told me about your phone call."

"She should have told me," Dean said.

Sam shifted in his seat, wishing he could just bury the subject. His secret was out, he wanted to move on, but he knew he couldn't. Not with Chloe and Dean not speaking. "I made her promise, Dean. She swore not to tell you."

"So? I think what you were doing qualifies as a good excuse to break that promise."

"Dean," Sam started unsure about what he wanted to tell him. He'd promised Chloe he'd come clean to his brother, but he'd never found the right time or way to do so. Not that it mattered anymore, Dean had found out his own way thanks to his angel.

"What Sam?" Dean asked when Sam didn't finish.

Sam shook his head. "It's _Chloe_."

There was a long pause before Dean spoke again, his eyes remaining focused on the road. "Yeah," he nodded slowly. "I know."

* * *

Dean pocketed his keys as he opened the motel door. The plan was to get some rest then head out again to the next hunt. Part of him itched to leave right away, but he knew he needed sleep, they both did.

He froze as soon as the door swung open, noticing the figure at the other end of the room. "I thought we put a Do Not Disturb sign up for a reason," he said, looking over at Sam before continuing inside.

Chloe crossed her arms, not amused. "We need to talk."

"No, we don't," Dean argued, moving past her to his duffel bag.

"Dean," Sam warned.

Dean shot his brother another look, wondering if they had planned this. It wasn't like he'd planned on holding a grudge against Chloe forever, he just hadn't planned on speaking to her again so soon. _You forgave Sam, you can forgive Chloe, _his mind argued.

"Fine. Talk," Dean said shrugging out of his coat.

Chloe hesitated for a moment, watching him carefully. "I'm not sorry," she said finally. "I know you think I should have told you about Sam, but I made him a promise. You can hate me for it and never trust me again, fine, but don't think you can just disappear again. The world is literally coming to an end around us and I'm not going to let you shut me out. I'm a part of this fight now whether you like it or not."

Dean looked between Sam and Chloe, watching their expectant faces. After a beat, he nodded. "Fine."

"Fine?" Chloe asked, surprised.

"Yeah, fine. But no more secrets," he said, watching her flinch at his words. _"Hey, Dean can you do me a favor…Don't tell Sam about my powers."_ "Not about this apocalypse or any freaky, demon powers," he amended, wondering why she still wanted to keep her powers from Sam. It wasn't like he would care.

"Okay," Sam and Chloe said in unison.

To Be Continued…


	30. Expected Attack

**A/N:** Takes place before the events of "Yellow Fever" and "Prey"

* * *

_Now…_

Chloe flinched as she collided with the wall. Before she could blink a hand wrapped around her neck, holding her in place.

"Try chanting now," the demon whispered into her ear. She grimaced as his stale breath slid over her. She doubted the thing had picked up a toothbrush since possessing the poor man.

"Christo," she wheezed as his grip tightened.

He smirked, barely flinching at her words. "You aren't a Winchester, and you definitely aren't Ruby, so who are you?"

In response, she clawed and kicked attempting to get some leverage. She could hardly breath, much less answer him. Two demon attacks in less than three weeks. She really was more involved in the fight than she'd realized.

"You don't seem all that surprised by me," the demon continued, smacking at her arms as she tried to break free. "I bet you knew we were here all along. You're one of those skilled hunters, right? You can track the signs." He leaned forward again, studying her. "It's such a pain leaving a trail, but it's part of the gig, I guess. Not much I can do about it."

"Chri—" Chloe attempted again when he grip loosened momentarily. Her weapons were all on the other side of the room. She had nothing but her words to protect herself, and they were failing her.

"You know you're on the wrong side. You humans will never win." He smiled slowly, his free hand reaching up to play with her hair. "You could—agh!"

Chloe froze when the demon screamed. His eyes went wide with pain before he released her and collapsed to the floor. She watched the body flicker momentarily then lay still. Dead.

"Christo," she muttered, rubbing at her soar neck.

"Watch the language, want to?" a female voice asked.

Chloe looked up from the body into the dark eyes of another demon. "_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus_—"

"Wait!" The demon stumbled back, twitching at the exorcism. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Chloe hesitated, watching the demon compose itself. Her instinct told her to keep going, but she momentarily let her curiosity win. "Why did you help me?" she demanded, keeping her distance from the female demon.

"Because, if I didn't that would just be another reason for Dean to kill me," the demon replied, slipping her knife back in her pocket.

Chloe watched her move, recognizing the dangerous weapon. "Ruby?"

"Surprise."

* * *

_Earlier…_

"Where are you guys headed next?" Chloe asked, settling onto the edge of the nearest bed.

Dean moved around the room, shoving pieces of clothing and toiletries in his duffel bag as he passed it. "Don't know yet. East maybe, see if we run into anything." He pulled a pile of clothes from the dresser and rolled it into a ball before packing them into the duffel.

Chloe raised an eyebrow at his actions. "Neat."

"It works," Dean replied, making one last sweep of the room. Seeing nothing, he moved to close the bag. "You heading back today?"

She watched him struggle with the zipper for a moment before leaning over to help. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" he repeated, closing the bag with a forceful pull on the zipper.

She leaned back on her hands with a shrug. "Maybe I'll stick around, see the sights."

He smirked and looked ready to respond when the door opened. "Bobby's got a case for us," Sam announced.

"Where?"

"Alliance, Nebraska."

Chloe looked up at his words. "What's the case?"

Dean shook his head before Sam could speak. "You aren't coming with," he argued.

"Why not?" she asked, though she knew the answer.

"Because it's dangerous," she mouthed as he spoke, earning an annoyed glare.

"I wasn't asking to hunt with you guys. I was just thinking I'd tag along, help with the research or something," she said with a helpless shrug. "Besides, it's not like I don't know what I'm doing."

Dean shared a look with Sam before grabbing his duffel bag. "Fine, but you follow my lead. And _no_ hunting."

Chloe smiled, following him outside. "Yes, sir."

He tossed his bag into the back seat of his car before turning to Chloe. "Taking your car?"

"I can't leave it here," she said by way of answering.

Dean gave her car a once over before reaching for his car door. "Keep up."

* * *

Dean drove in silence for a couple hours, keeping his eyes on the road and the rearview mirror.

"She's not going anywhere, Dean," Sam pointed out as his brother shot another glance at the rearview mirror.

"I'm just making sure she keeps up."

"Sure." Sam nodded without any real conviction. "So, why'd you let her come with."

"She asked," Dean said simply, his hand reaching towards the radio.

Sam cut him off, angling his leg to block the knobs. "And?" Sam pressed. "Before you wouldn't even let her _think _about joining us on a hunt."

"That was before."

Sam rolled his eyes, moving his legs. "Whatever, dude."

Instead of reaching for the radio, Dean shot his brother a curious look. "Don't you want her with?"

"I never said I didn't."

"No, but you've been on edge since we left the motel. Is there something I should know?" Dean asked, remembering the promise he'd only recently made Sam and Chloe make. No secrets.

"You already know everything," Sam replied, turning his gaze to the passenger window.

"No I don't. Neither one of you has told me what happened while I was dead," Dean argued, shooting his brother another look. "Something happened. Something big."

"Yeah, you died."

"No." Dean shook his head. "That's not it. You two barely make eye contact."

Sam shrugged. "She reacted to my powers about as well as you did."

"She punched you?" Dean asked, attempting humor.

Sam shook his head, missing the joke. "She left."

* * *

Chloe skimmed the information as it zipped past her screen. Sam and Dean were both out on a food run and she had volunteered to stay behind and research more information. It wasn't looking good. On a hunch, she'd scanned the town's weather for the previous week.

"This isn't right." She scanned through more information again. "They're not supposed to be here." Her mind worked overtime piecing the patterns together: temperature change, cattle deaths, even something as small as a shift in barometric pressure. Little things hunters like John Winchester had learned to track she could follow without any effort. If there was demon active in the world she could pinpoint it, and even determine its strength. "We're in trouble," she muttered, closing the laptop when she heard the Impala drive up.

Dean knocked before entering her motel. "Food's here," he announced, peaking his head in.

"We need to talk," she said, standing and following him to his room next door.

"About?"

"The case."

Sam looked up when they entered. His food was already out of the bag, sitting in front of him. "What about the case?"

"We're going to need backup."

"Backup?" Dean asked, ignoring his food for a moment. "Why?"

"I've got a hunch this isn't as simple as we think it is," Chloe said, watching Sam as she spoke. She had proof they were in over their heads and she still couldn't make herself admit it out loud. She wasn't ready for the reaction she knew she'd get from the younger Winchester. But she knew she had to confess.

"A hunch?" Sam asked, looking skeptical. "These hunts are never as simple as they seem. We're not that lucky."

"Yeah, well I don't think you guys can handle this on your own."

"This what?" Dean pressed. "What's here that's so bad?"

"I don't know," Chloe admitted. It was mostly true. From what she'd gathered it was either one bad demon, or a team of smaller ones. Either way it was a lot for the brothers to handle.

"You don't know?" Sam questioned. "But you know it's bad. How?"

Chloe sighed, bracing herself. _Just tell him,_ she thought. _He'll figure it out sooner or later._ "Whatever this thing is it's demonic. I don't know who or how many, but it's big. I've been tracking it."

Sam looked up, realization shining in his eyes. "Tracking it? You've been tracking demon activity? How?" he asked again.

"My powers shifted. I can't heal anyone anymore, but I can track patterns." She played with her hands, anticipating the blowup. "Patterns like the ones demons leave when they move."

"You can track demons with your powers," Sam repeated. He stood and stared at her for a moment, looking torn between yelling and leaving. He glared obviously choosing to stay and fight. "For months, I tried to find Lilith and that whole time you knew how to find her?"

"Not perfectly. These patterns aren't set in stone. The demons here weren't even supposed to be here," Chloe argued. She noticed Dean stand off to the side, watching the two of them like a tennis match.

"But you still had a hell of a lot more to go on than I did. You knew how important finding Lilith was for me. Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Sam took a step closer to her and she stiffened but didn't move, believing he'd never harm her.

She crossed her arms, keeping her emotions in check. If she wasn't fighting with one Winchester she was fighting with the other lately. "I was trying to protect you."

"I didn't need protection. I needed to find Lilith," Sam barked.

"So she could kill you?" Chloe shot back. "I wasn't going to let—"

"It's not your job to protect me," Sam snapped, cutting her off.

Dean stepped in between them as if sensing the argument had hit its peak. "Sam," he started, but his brother ignored him, exiting the room before anyone could speak.

Chloe jumped when the door slammed in his wake, eyeing Dean. "_That _is why I didn't want to tell him."

"You can track demons?" Dean asked, looking a little shell-shocked from the fight.

Chloe looked down at her hands, wondering if Dean would take her skill just as well as Sam. "Yes."

He moved closer, squeezing her shoulder until she looked him in the eye. "Thank you."

She nodded. "You better get Sam."

* * *

Dean smirked when he found his brother inside the nearest bar. A glass of water sitting in front of him. He hadn't gone very far.

"She should have told me," Sam stated before Dean could even sit down.

Dean sighed, sinking into the barstool next to him. "Sorta like she should have told me about your powers, right?"

"That's different."

"How?"

Sam shrugged helplessly. "It just is. If she had told me we could have found Lilith. I could have saved you."

"Sam," Dean started, grabbing his brother's arm until he looked at him. "That's kind of a moot point by now, don't you think? I'm here, I'm back. It might not have been as fast as you would have liked, but I'm back. And like you said, this time it's without any messy demon strings attached."

"I could have saved you," Sam argued, returning his gaze to the bar.

"Or, Lilith could have killed you." Dean mirrored his position. "Personally, I prefer this scenario."

"She lied to me."

Dean scoffed at his statement. "Good luck with that argument." He turned and faced his brother, wondering why it was their conversation topics seemed to be on repeat lately. "Sam, you can't stay mad at her forever."

"Why not?" he asked, though, his tone was lighter.

"Because, like you said, it's _Chloe._"

Sam moved to stand, nodding at his brother's words. "Yeah. I know. Which also means she's right."

"We better call Bobby and figure out what this big-bad demon is." Dean stood to follow Sam as a group of men walked in the bar. All four of them were laughing and bumping into each other as if they'd already reached their quota for alcohol despite the early hour.

"Happy hour comes early here," Dean mumbled to his brother.

"What's that?" one of the men asked, stepping forward. He stood a head taller than the men around him and from the frown on his face Dean would have guessed he was their leader. "Care to share with the class?"

Dean held his hands easily sidestepping him. "Nothing, man. Just talking to my brother." His defenses rose when the other three men stepped forward, slowly circling them.

"Really? I think you're lying."

"Think whatever you want. We were just on our way out."

The leader frowned. "No stay, I could use a little fun."

"Sorry, dude, not my type," Dean snarked, continuing towards the door. _Sam, did you have to sit so far away?_

"I bet I can guess your type." His frowned slowly morphed into a sneer. "Blondes, right? Short, curvy ones."

_Chloe._ Dean felt anger well up. "What did you…" he trailed off as he got a good look at the man before him. _Seriously?_

Next to him, Sam stiffened, falling into a defensives stance. "What's with demons and bars?" he asked casually. His hand inching towards his coat where he kept a flask of holy water. It wasn't much against four demons, but it might work for a distraction.

"Hey, we just want to drink away our problems like everyone else," another demon piped up.

Dean glanced back at the bar and frowned when he noticed it empty. The bartender was gone. _Not that he'd be much help._ "You wanna drink? Be my guest." As he spoke, he splashed water on the demons in front of him, pushing Sam in the direction of the door as the creatures hissed in pain.

Before they could reach the door, two of the demons jumped in front of them physically knocking them to the ground.

"Play nice, boys. We just wanna talk," the leader said.

Dean kicked at the demon holding him down. "Talk? Doubt it."

"Always so cynical, Dean." The demon stepped forward, dropping a boot on his chest. "It'll be the death of you."

* * *

Chloe jumped when the door blew open. Somehow she doubted it was Dean.

"Hey honey, I'm—"

"Not Ricky Ricardo," Chloe cut off, reaching for her gun.

The man in the doorway smirked his eyes flashing black. "Gotta have dreams, right?"

To Be Continued…


	31. Partial Victory

_Earlier…_

"Why did you help me?" Chloe demanded, keeping her distance from the female demon.

"Because, if I didn't that would just be another reason for Dean to kill me," the demon replied, slipping her knife back in her pocket.

Chloe watched her move, recognizing the dangerous weapon. "Ruby?"

"Surprise."

* * *

_Now…_

Chloe looked from the body on the floor to the demon in front of her. "You killed him," she accused unsure of what to actually say. She wasn't about to say thank you. Not to Ruby.

"He was already dead."

"How do you know?" Chloe asked.

"I just do." Ruby stepped forward, nudging the body with a boot. "Trust me, he was dead." She met Chloe's eyes carefully, gesturing to her neck. "That's going to bruise."

Chloe placed a tentative hand on her neck where the demon had held her. "Could of been worse."

"Yeah." Ruby nodded. "Where's Sam."

Chloe frowned, realization catching up to her. "He left. Dean went after him."

"He left?"

"We had a fight," she explained then stopped. "It doesn't matter. I need to find them." She moved past Ruby, grabbing her gun and her bag containing holy water and salt. If she was lucky, she'd be able to get out an exorcism before she had to shoot anyone.

"You two fought?" Ruby asked, following her out the door. "Now that's surprising. What about?"

Chloe glared. "None of your business." She wanted to tell the demon to get lost, but she had a feeling she was going to need her. Ruby had the demon-killing knife after all. She gestured down the street to the nearest bar. "I bet they went in there."

* * *

Dean grunted as two of the demons jumped him, bouncing him off of a pool table. He could hear Sam behind him struggling with his own demonic bullies.

"Does this bring back memories, Dean?" the head demon asked, shoving him into a wall. Dean attempted to fight back, but felt himself held in place by a supernatural force. "Although, this is nothing compared to Hell. Am I right?"

"Bite me," he managed before he was sent tumbling to the ground.

"All that time spent suffering in Hell. But I bet it was nothing compared to finding out your dear, sweet brother was playing with a demon while you were gone."

Dean glared, trying to find his brother across the bar. "My brother's not sweet." He stumbled to his feet only to be thrown back against the wall. He would never understand demon's need to do that. If they just asked nicely he'd be happy to sit still while they monologue. _Yeah, right._

"And what about you?" the demon asked, dancing in and out of his personal space as he spoke.

Dean growled when one of the demons knocked Sam across the face. His brother grunted and collapsed, down for the count.

"Hey." The leader stepped forward, yanking on his collar. "I'm talking to you."

Dean blinked, ignoring the spots dancing in his eyes. "You bore me," he said, frowning at the demon.

"Jokes, all we ever get are jokes from you. Can't you be serious for one minute?" The demon threw his hands up in mock annoyance. "So you don't want to talk about evil, little Sammy, or your own twisted self. How 'bout your newest sidekick? She's a pretty thing, and smart too." He smirked slowly. "She knew we were here, didn't she?"

"She also knows how to stop you," Dean pointed out, remembering her previous encounter with demons. Thanks to her higher intelligence, she'd rattled off an exorcism without any thought. _Though, she can probably do that without any powers, _he mused, thinking of her quick mouth.

"Yeah, I'm real scared of Blondie," the demon teased. "She's nothing compared to the Winchesters."

"Wanna bet?" Dean asked, trying for threatening and failing when his frown made him flinch in pain. "My money's on Chloe."

The demon shook his head. "We'll see."

* * *

"Stay back," Ruby hissed as they reached the bar.

"No way," Chloe hissed back.

"I don't need you charging in with your Latin tongue and exorcising me before I can save your boyfriends," Ruby argued.

Chloe glared but decided against arguing back. She didn't want Ruby's help, but at the moment she knew she was better off with the demon than on her own. "Fine."

She gestured for Ruby to take the lead before sending out a quick apology to the men she was about to slaughter. "Ruby, it's a pleasure," she heard a man sneer as soon as the demon stepped though the doors. Shooting a quick glance inside, she moved around to find a back door.

By the time she made it inside Ruby was the last demon standing. Four corpses at her feet. "Sam!" Chloe cried, noticing the younger brother first. He was sprawled out on the ground unmoving.

"I'll get him. You get Dean," Ruby said, gesturing to the other end of the bar. Chloe turned and cringed when she saw Dean looking just as bad as Sam. She took a step towards the older hunter before looking back at Ruby.

The demon was already bent over Sam, checking for injuries. "Just leave him alone," she said, angered by the sight. Sam was hurt, but he didn't need Ruby. Chloe could handle it on her own.

Ruby looked up and cocked an eyebrow. "You're going to take care of these two on your own?" She smirked. "'Kay fine. You can drag them to the motel on your own."

Chloe looked between the brothers, swallowing her anger. She was really starting to hate demons.

Well, more than she had already.

* * *

Sam woke slowly, his hand instantly going to his forehead. He rubbed at his temples, attempting to alleviate the dull throb in his head. _I hate being knocked out,_ he thought, the previous events coming back to him as the pain lessened.

Demons had ambushed them, four against two. _Dean!_ He blinked, grunting as he started to sit up.

"He's fine, Sam," Chloe assured.

Blinking away the rest of the cobwebs, he sat up fully and noticed Chloe sitting on the bed across from the his. They were in his and Dean's motel room. "You two have hard heads. He'll be fine." Next to her, Dean was laying on the bed, mirroring the position Sam had been in. Chloe had one of his hands in her lap and for a moment Sam thought she was simply holding it, until he noticed the slightly bloody washcloth. She was cleaning his cuts.

Sam moved so his feet were resting on the floor. As he moved, he felt something tug on his side. He pulled up his shirt and frowned at the bandage taped to his lower abdomen.

"Those demons used you as a kickball," Chloe explained, looking up from Dean's hand. "You've got a few bruises on your back you'll be feeling soon."

"Awesome," Sam muttered. He dropped his shirt and watched her continue to clean his brother's hand. He pulled his gaze from them and looked around the room, his eyes straying to the spot of blood on the carpet. "What happened?"

"A demon," Chloe said simply. Her hand strayed to her neck where he noticed faint bruises forming. "Sam, I'm…" she trailed off shaking her head. "I'm not sorry I didn't tell you about my powers. But I am sorry I let you stay away all those months."

"You didn't let me do anything," Sam argued.

Chloe smirked, setting Dean's hand back on the bed. "I know, but I still shouldn't have left you alone."

"You couldn't have found me," Sam said, though he knew that wasn't true. If she could track demons she could have easily tracked him down.

Chloe nodded but remained quiet, studying her hands.

Sam watched her carefully, wondering at how strained their relationship had gotten. He hadn't realized until Dean had come back just how much he'd missed her. Before Dean's death he would have called them friends, but now he was afraid of where they stood. "Why didn't you tell me, Chloe?" he asked.

"I was afraid for you," she admitted. Sam felt a tug of relief at her choice of words. She was afraid _for_ him, not _of_ him. "I knew if you found out where Lilith was you'd charge after her and probably get yourself killed. I didn't want to lose you, too."

"I could have handled it," Sam argued, though more out of stubborn necessity than anger. "You could have trusted me."

Chloe looked up at his words. "I _do_ trust you, Sam," she corrected. "But I also know how much Dean means to you and what you would do to get him back."

Sam nodded, remembering the sad, understanding look she'd given him the last time they'd spoken after Dean's death.

"I'm no where near as close to him as you are," Chloe continued, her eyes wandering down to Dean for a moment. "But if someone had offered me a way to bring him back it would have been really hard to step back and think about the consequences."

Sam thought of the deals he'd tried to make with demons who wouldn't deal. He'd even tried opening the devil's gate. He doubted he would have hesitated before charging in on Lilith, deadly or not. "I know."

Chloe gave him a wry smile, moving to sit next to him. "If it makes you feel any better I tried to find Lilith and I couldn't. She's either in hiding or extremely good at covering her tracks."

"She's powerful," Sam agreed. He watched her nod, eyeing his brother's still form worriedly. "He'll be fine," he said, repeating her earlier words. He wanted to ask her what had happened after they had been attacked at the bar, but decided it could wait. Reaching over, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug. "Are we okay?" he asked, feeling her reciprocate.

"Yeah, we're okay," she mumbled into his chest.

* * *

Dean blinked and frowned at the fuzzy figure hovering over him. "Dude, lay off," he grumbled, recognizing Sam's hand on his forehead.

"Dude, calm down," Sam mocked. The bed shifted as he stood, removing his hand. "How're you feeling?"

"Awesome," Dean answered, blinking until he could make out his brother. "Where's Chloe?" he asked, remembering the events leading up to his blow to the head.

"Right here, Dean." He heard a chair squeak and moved himself into a sitting position as Chloe walked over. "Careful," she said as he winced. "I don't think anything's broken, but it's definitely bruised."

Once he was settled she smirked, sitting on the other bed next to Sam. "Didn't your dad ever teach you not to get into bar fights with demons?" she teased.

"I'm a slow learner." Dean studied her, checking for signs of injury. The way those demons had been talking about her, he was surprised to see her walking. "You okay?" he asked, noticing some bruising on her neck.

Chloe nodded. "I'm fine," she said, reaching into her back pocket. "Ruby saved us." She pulled out the demon's knife and handed it to Sam who set it on the nightstand.

"Ruby?" Dean frowned at the mention of the demon. "What was she doing here?"

Chloe shrugged. "Don't know. Here to warn you about the demons, maybe?"

"Where is she now?"

"After she helped me get you two back here, I told her to leave."

Dean caught Sam's eye, relieved to see his brother didn't look upset by that fact. "Good."

To Be Continued…


	32. Committed Fear

_Now…_

"You're leaving again?" Clark asked as he walked into Isis.

Chloe looked up from her bag. "Again?"

He nodded and moved to stand next to her. "You keep heading out of town for days at a time. Where are you going?"

Chloe swallowed, surprised Clark had even noticed. He'd been so swamped with his new job at the _Planet_ she'd never expected him to notice her trips out of state. "I've got a friend in South Dakota I've been visiting."

"A friend?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

She laughed, closing her bag. "Relax Clark, he's old enough to be my dad…maybe older. He helped me with a story a while ago and we've kept in touch since then."

"Why the sudden need to visit?"

Chloe shrugged, looking down at her bag. She knew she couldn't tell Clark the truth. "He's pretty sure the 'end is near'," she admitted with a wry smile. "He likes me to keep him company."

Realization clicked in her friends eyes and she felt a little bad for lying to him. Technically Bobby did believe the _end was near_ but not the way she'd implied. Bobby didn't fear for the end of his life, he feared for the end of the world.

She slipped her bag over her shoulder and grabbed her keys. "I'll see you later, Clark. Call me if you need me, okay?"

* * *

"Now entering Rock Ridge," Dean read as they drove into town. "Guess we'll have to wait until tomorrow to start interviewing."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, looking out at the night sky. "We can head out first thing tomorrow morning."

"Think it's another demon attack," Dean joked wryly. After the last demon attack he'd had enough of hell's angels for a while.

Sam shrugged obviously remembering the demonic bar fight. "Hope not."

Dean strummed on the steering wheel, thinking about the third member of their party that had been attacked. "Is Chloe still looking into Lilith?"

"As far as I know, yes. She said Lilith is hard to track, though, so we probably won't know anything until she moves."

"You mean until we are three steps behind her."

Sam nodded. "Basically."

"Awesome."

"She told me she's going to head up to Bobby's to do some tracking."

"Good."

"Good?" Sam repeated, looking slightly amused. "You really don't mind?"

"Of course not," Dean argued, knowing the look Sam was giving him. "I'd rather have her at Bobby's. If things go south he knows how to keep her safe."

"Keep her safe, of course." Sam smirked. "I don't think she's in any more danger at home than she is at Bobby's. I'm sure she's got people to watch out for her at her home."

"Yeah, people who know nothing about the looming apocalypse," Dean said, imagining her fiancé trying to fight off a demon. It was a scary image. He smirked thoughtfully, looking over at Sam. "Hey, think we'll be invited to her wedding?"

Sam raised an eyebrow at his question before laughing. "Yes, Dean. I'm sure we'll be invited," he replied sarcasm evident in his tone. "Maybe you can be her Maid of Honor."

"Nah." Dean shook his head. "You'd look better in a dress, Samantha."

"Hilarious."

* * *

"You made good time," Bobby said as Chloe met him on the porch. She smiled up at the older hunter when he took her bag from her shoulder.

"Don't tell the cops that," she joked.

Bobby grunted in response as they moved inside. He set her bag on the couch and moved to the kitchen, indicating for her to follow. "So, you were a bit cryptic over the phone. Why exactly are you here?" He poured two glasses of water and offered her one. She smiled in acceptance, knowing better than to say no. He didn't always offer holy water, but it was better to just take the initial drink than say no and get some in the face.

"For research."

Bobby nodded, swallowing his water in one gulp. "You said that. What kind of research? Because I've been hitting the books since our resident angel told Dean what was happening. I haven't found anything yet."

Chloe played with her hair for a minute before meeting Bobby's gaze. "Actually, it's less researching and more tracking."

"Tracking what?"

"Demons."

"You're tracking demons now?" Bobby asked, bothered. "Didn't Dean tell you how dangerous that kind of thing could be."

"I'm not going after them, I'm just tracking them." Chloe met his gaze carefully. "And, I think I can find Lilith, if I get some help."

"Lilith? Girl, you've been hanging out with those boys too long. You're going to get in over your head."

"Already there," Chloe mused, moving to sit at the dining room table. She waited until Bobby joined her, before continuing. "You've heard about the metas in Smallville, right?"

"Metas?" Bobby repeated, though, she knew she saw a look of recognition in his eyes.

"Yeah, meteor freaks." Bobby nodded. "I'm one of them," Chloe confessed hardly surprised to see Bobby's expression remain neutral. He dealt with the strange and unnatural on a daily basis, of course her powers wouldn't surprise him.

"And your power is demon tracking?" Bobby guessed.

Chloe smirked, imagining all the things her new powers allowed her to do. Demon tracking was such a small part, but at the moment it was the most important. If they could find Lilith before she tried to break another seal they might be able to stop her completely, ending any threat of an apocalypse. "In a way, yes. I can follow patterns, like the ones demons leave behind." She let Bobby take in the information for a moment before continuing with her explanation. "I came here, because I need another set of eyes and data. You've been tracking these demons before me, so I thought you could help."

Bobby studied her for a moment, his expression guarded. Hesitation crept up under his gaze. She'd assumed that he would be able to take her powers in stride and move on, working on what was important—finding Lilith. She wasn't sure how familiar he was with 'gifted' people, but she was going on the hope that he trusted her enough to accept her powers.

"And I thought the research-line was just because you missed me," Bobby said finally, a small smile gracing his lips.

Chloe smiled back, patting his hand. "Well, there is that."

"You do realize this will mean more time away from home?" Bobby asked.

"I know, but this is important. I think my job can wait while I try and stop the apocalypse."

Bobby gestured to the ring on her left hand. "And what about him? Is he okay with the frequent visits to my house?"

"He knows it's important," Chloe answered, fiddling with her ring. Jimmy had finally bought her a real ring a few days before their engagement party and it still felt strange on her hand. She hadn't spoken to Jimmy in almost a week, not much beyond a goodbye in the morning. After their engagement party, she'd thrown herself into Isis and tracking down Lilith. She wasn't completely sure why she was avoiding her fiancé, she just was.

In some way, she blamed the engagement party. Or more specifically, her cousin's speech. Lois, a few too many drinks past sober, had given a speech about the promise they'd made to each other as children: to wait to get married until they found their soul mate. Lois didn't believe Jimmy was her soul mate.

And Chloe was starting to worry she might agree.

"Does he know what you do?" Bobby asked, pulling her back to the conversation.

Chloe shook her head. "No." The most Jimmy knew was that she had a charm to ward of demons. She wasn't even sure if he believed demons were real.

"Are you going to tell him?" Bobby pressed, fixing her with a knowing stare.

"No." Jimmy didn't need to know. Like she'd told Sam, there was nothing her fiancé could do to help so there was not reason for him to worry.

"Well that's healthy."

Chloe frowned. "What?"

"You're going to marry this guy, but you aren't going to tell him what you do?"

"I'm trying to keep him safe," Chloe argued.

"You and I both know keeping him in the dark is not the same as keeping him safe."

Chloe looked down at her ring, remembering Lois's words. _We made a promise, neither of us would get married until we found our soul mates. _

_Which is why you can't take a ten-year-old on their word._

"I know," Chloe agreed.

* * *

"Man I hate snakes," Dean grumbled, loosening his tie as he drove. They were headed back to the motel to change before going to get more information on Frank. Anything to figure out what had killed him.

"Yeah, I noticed," Sam joked without looking over.

Dean glared, scratching an itch on his arm. "Who let's their snakes slither around their house? It's just wrong."

"I'll alert the authorities." Even without looking, Dean could sense the eye roll and resisted the urge to smack his brother.

"Well it is," he argued before turning on the radio.

* * *

"You aren't using me, are you?" Bobby asked, once they were less-than-halfway through the stack of information.

Chloe looked up with a laugh. "What?"

"Using me," Bobby repeated. "Are you using this research and my house to hide from problems?" He was smiling slightly, but she could still sense the seriousness in his question.

"No." Chloe closed the book in front of her and stood to grab a drink. "We need to do this research."

"True, but thanks to technology we don't have to do it in the same room. You could be at home."

"I don't want to be," Chloe admitted, surprised by the statement. She moved past him into the kitchen to avoid meeting his gaze.

_Why not?_ She imagined him asking, but he didn't. He remained quiet in the other room, letting the conversation drop.

She grabbed another glass of water and sipped it slowly. _I'm afraid to go home, _she answered mentally.

_Why?_

_I don't want to tell him 'I can't,'_ she thought, pulling her ring off for a moment, before returning it to her finger.

Sam shook his head as he walked towards the motel's front desk. Dean was afraid of the fourth floor. Height—Dean was afraid of heights. If it weren't so disturbing he would have laughed.

His brother had never been scared of something as simple as height. With the exception of flying, his biggest fear had always been for the safety of his family.

He shot the Impala one last glance, before approaching the desk. _I hope Bobby's found some cure._

He couldn't take Dean's death again, not so soon after he'd just gotten him back.

Not ever.

* * *

"Dean's been infected with what?" Chloe asked as she watched Bobby move around the library.

"Ghost sickness."

"That doesn't sound good."

Bobby grabbed a thin book from a shelf and shoved it into a nearby bag. "It's not. It makes people scared."

"Scared?"

Bobby paused mid-stride, catching her gaze. "Scared to death."

Chloe blinked, feeling like the air had been knocked out of her. _Dean's going to die?_

Bobby shook his head and she realized she'd spoken out loud. "Not if I have anything to say about it."

"Good." She stood as Bobby grabbed his keys, feeling slightly torn.

"Coming?" Bobby asked as they stepped outside.

* * *

"Dean!" Sam called, walking into the motel room. His brother hadn't been answering his phone since he and Bobby had scared the ghost. He was worried they hadn't made it in time.

"Dean?" Bobby echoed, following behind.

"What?" Dean answered from the other end of the room.

"Dude, answer your phone," Sam scolded, forcing his heart to calm at the sight of his brother.

Dean blinked in realization and moved past them to the couch. "I forgot about my phone. I buried it under the cushions."

"Why?"

"So I wouldn't hear it ring," Dean answered matter-of-factly.

Sam cocked an eyebrow. "You were afraid of your ring tone?"

"No, moron. I was afraid of who was calling."

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask Dean who was calling, but he hesitated. Somehow he figured he really didn't want to know who could scare Dean over the phone. "Alright, fine."

"You feeling better?" Bobby asked.

"I'm fine," Dean stated with a firm nod. "No more fear."

Sam watched his brother and mentally frowned. _No more fear? Yeah, right._

* * *

Chloe paced the small Talon apartment, trying to sort her thoughts. Her trip to Bobby's had been cut short and now she was back home with a lot on her mind. And, despite her super intelligence, it wasn't any easier to sort it than before.

_I don't want to tell him 'I can't.'_

She'd come home worried about Dean's life, but now that she knew he was okay her thoughts had shifted to Jimmy. Though she hadn't spoken to him in a while she'd been thinking about him. Something playing at the back of her mind that she'd been trying to ignore.

_Do you love him?_

Sam's question had been plaguing her since he'd asked it. She'd never had the opportunity to answer him, but she still knew the answer. She'd known it since she'd said yes and let Jimmy put the cheep ring on her finger. When Jimmy had tried to take his proposal back she'd panicked. Jimmy was one of the last stable things in her life and he had been pulling back from her, just like everything else she cared for.

She'd said yes to keep some sense of stability in her life.

_Do you love him?_

"Chloe? You're home," Jimmy greeted as he walked inside the apartment. He leaned forward and gave her a peck on the mouth, hesitating when she didn't reciprocate. "What's wrong, Chlo'?"

_Do you love him?_

She swallowed, meeting his gaze carefully. _No._

She was hesitating, but not because she was unsure of the answer, but because of his feelings. She knew what it was like to have someone reject her, she didn't want to be the reason for that kind of pain. But if she didn't she'd hurt him more in the long run.

"Chloe?" Jimmy pressed, grabbing her hand. He looked down when he noticed something off.

Chloe pulled the ring from her pocket and pressed it into his hand, carefully closing his fingers around it. "I can't."

To Be Continued…


	33. Building Up

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay. Busy week. This episode takes place before "It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester."

* * *

_Now…_

"North?" Sam asked, reading the road signs as they drove past.

"Yeah. Why, did you have a different destination in mind?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged, keeping his gaze on the road ahead. "We've been spending a lot of time with her lately."

"Who said we were going to go visit her?"

Sam smirked, shooting his brother a knowing look. "Where else would we be going?"

"Bobby's," Dean answered. "Bobby's place would be north, too."

"We just saw Bobby," Sam pointed out.

Dean shook his head. "Well, so what? I want to see if she's found anything on Lilith, and maybe she has a case for us. She usually has a case for us."

Sam stayed quiet for a moment, trying to read his brother's tone. Ever since his resurrection, Dean had become easier to read. He wasn't sure why, but it was as if his brother wasn't holding back anymore. In a way it was a relief, but at the same time Dean's openness made Sam feel like he stood out that much more. Sam knew he had been keeping things from Dean. They still hadn't talked about those four months on his own, and it as only thanks to Castiel that Dean had even learned about Sam's powers.

But for some reason, when it came to Chloe, Dean tried to hide his feelings. He could be open about other things: his doubts about God, his fear of Sam's powers, but when it came to Chloe he liked to keep those feelings bottled up. Sam wasn't willing to say the feelings were anything stronger than friendship, but sometimes Dean wouldn't even admit to that.

"Hey, I'm not complaining," Sam said, holding up a hand. "I like visiting her." He watched Dean relax a little under his words.

"Yeah." Dean nodded. "Me too."

* * *

Chloe moved around the small office, sorting through piles of papers and books. She wasn't really sure what she was looking for, but she figured she'd know when she found it. Either that or something else would catch her interest.

Unconsciously, her hand went to her finger where less than two days ago a ring had been. Playing with the engagement ring had become such a common habit for her that she forgot it wasn't there until she hit smooth skin. She didn't miss the ring, but she did miss the distraction.

To her relief, the breakup had been less drama than she'd anticipated. Jimmy had argued, wanting to know why, but in the end he'd understood what she did: they couldn't get married. Jimmy swore he loved her and Chloe was sure on some level he did, but it wasn't the love between a husband and wife.

And her? She was pretty sure she'd never loved Jimmy. At least not the way she wanted to love the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with: her soul mate. _Whoever he is_, she mused, stacking another pile of papers together.

A knock sounded at the door and she hurried to answer, hoping whoever it was wouldn't get too interested in the information sprawled on her tabletops. She really didn't want to explain why she was researching demons.

_Scratch that, these guys won't mind,_ she thought, opening the door. "Hey guys," she greeted, stepping back to let them enter. "What's up?"

Dean shrugged, walking into the room. "In the neighborhood. Thought we'd stop by and say hi."

Chloe caught Sam roll his eyes over Dean's head and snickered. "Weren't you just in Colorado?" she teased, leading them to the main room. She noticed Sam glance through the books and articles, his eyes bright with recognition.

"Yeah, so?" Dean asked. "You don't want us to visit?"

Chloe shook her head, remembering the last time Dean had gotten testy about them visiting. Of course, back then there had been a lot less trust between them. That had been before secrets had been shared and Chloe had become a bigger part of the fight—without even meaning to. "Of course I want you to visit, Dean," she answered. "Unfortunately, I don't have any good news for you." She watched Dean frown and shook her head. "I don't have any real bad news, either. So far, Lilith has remained silent."

"Awesome," Dean muttered. He shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced back at Sam. "Well, anyone hungry?"

Chloe smiled, shaking her head. "Starving," she answered, sharing a look with Sam.

Dean nodded. "Good, I'll drive."

Chloe followed the brothers outside to the Impala. The classic car stood out even on the crowded streets. Not many people in Metropolis enjoyed classic cars. They were too interested in the newest models. Chloe gave the Impala a once over and smiled. Considering the life the brothers led she couldn't picture them driving anything else. Compared the cars she'd driven it was a tank. _Probably full of enough firepower to rival my trunk,_ she mused.

She moved to the back door and hesitated when she saw backseat. Bags and clothes were strewn across the seat. "Laundry day?" she guessed.

Dean shrugged, pulling open the door. "We haven't been to a laundry mat in a while."

Chloe watched him shove the clothes into the bags and move the entire pile to one side of the seat, leaving room for her to sit. "You know, I've got a washer and dryer at my place. Free of charge."

Sam smiled at her from across the roof. "Thanks."

"Anytime."

* * *

Dean moved around the small apartment as Chloe and Sam worked at the dining room table, going over the little Chloe and Bobby had found. No evidence of Lilith, but some evidence of other demon activity. Of course, there was always evidence of demon activity. They were in the middle of an apocalypse.

He paused in front of a CD tower, reading over the labels.

"You mock my music, Winchester and I'll dye all of your clothes pink," Chloe warned.

He glanced back at her and smirked at her frown. "Oh come on, White Snake?" he asked, holding up a CD case.

"My cousin's," she explained as if that made it better.

Dean shook his head in mock disgust and returned the CD to it's place. "At least there's no Abba," he said, moving on from the tower before he found another CD he could mock.

Chloe blinked at his statement, but didn't respond. Dean thought he caught a look of hurt in her eyes, but it was so fleeting he wasn't sure. _Abba's a touchy subject?_ he wondered.

"Should I go check on the clothes?" he asked. "Let you two keep working."

Chloe shook her head. "Trust me, we'll know when they're done. The washer buzzes loud enough for the customers downstairs to hear."

"Convenient," Dean joked, grabbing a chair.

"Dean, check this out," Sam said, pushing a piece of paper his direction as he sat down.

Dean read over the information carefully. Weather reports. "And?" he asked. "What does this mean to me?"

Chloe grabbed a map and set it in front of him. A city was circled in red. "Last week, this entire area was a regular crisp fall temperature. Clear skies and all that. Then two days ago, the temperature shifted."

"So?" Dean asked. He knew temperature shift was a sign of demonic activity, but it was Fall. Temperature shift was common.

"So, the temperature only changed in _this_ city." Chloe pointed to the circled mark. "Everywhere else stayed the same."

"Does that mean demons moved in?"

Chloe shook her head. "No, demons moved out. And fast."

"Where are they headed?"

Chloe shrugged, looking up at Sam. "I don't know, but I do know they didn't all head in the same direction. It looked like they scattered. Like they were running away."

"So, you think something big is going on here?" Sam asked.

Chloe nodded. "Yeah, but I have no idea what."

Dean sat back in his chair and smiled at his brother. "I told you she'd have a case for us, Sam."

"Just be careful," Chloe warned, returning her attention to the information in front of her.

"We're always careful," Dean mused.

Chloe looked up and met his gaze. Her expression was eerily serious. "Something big is happening in this town and it's four days before Halloween. I doubt that's a coincidence."

Dean nodded just as the washer buzzed from the next room. "Alright, we'll be careful."

* * *

Chloe grabbed a shirt as Sam piled the dry clothes on top of the dryer. He looked up when she started folding it, confused. "Don't worry," she assured. "I'll leave the underwear alone."

Sam chuckled and followed suit, folding clothes next to her. "So, are you going to head up to Bobby's again soon?"

Chloe shook her head, folding a flannel carefully. "Probably not. Like he said, we can keep in touch without being face-to-face. But I've got my computer running nonstop, looking for information. If I find anything I'll be sure and let someone know."

Sam nodded, setting a duffel in front of them to put the clothes into. "I hope we find her soon."

"Yeah, before she gets any further through those seals." She set another shirt aside and looked up at her laundry partner. "Hey Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"You haven't talked to Ruby lately, have you?"

Sam shook his head. "No, not since I stopped using my powers."

Chloe nodded, giving him a small smile. "Good."

There was a pause as they worked in silence, until the front door opened announcing Dean's return. "Dinner's here. Get it while it's hot," he informed, appearing in the doorway. He looked between Sam and Chloe and the clothes in front of them and shook his head. "Nothing better be pink."

* * *

"Crap," Chloe muttered, looking up from food suddenly.

Dean jumped at her exclamation. "What's wrong?"

"My cousin's going to be here soon."

"The White Snake fan?" Dean asked, a small frown creeping up.

"Yeah, Lois." Chloe stood and started piling up books and articles. "Trust me, the less she knows about this stuff the better. You think I'm bad at dropping something, she's worse."

"Should we leave?" Sam asked, helping her clean up the mess of research.

Chloe paused, watching the brothers. After a beat she nodded slowly. "Yeah, probably."

Dean looked up at her tone, surprised by her hesitation. "We can crash at a nearby motel. We'll give you a call when we're settled, and you and Sam can keep researching for the night."

"What about you?" Chloe asked, amusement flashing in her eyes.

Dean shrugged. "I need my sleep. I've gotta drive tomorrow morning."

"At least you have your priorities," Chloe mused.

Sam snickered. "Oh yeah, priorities."

"Shut it."

* * *

"White Snake," Dean muttered, as they drove to a motel.

Sam laughed. "It'll be okay, Dean. I don't think Chloe's a fan."

"I hope not."

To Be Continued…


	34. Keeping Touch

**A/N:** Sorry again for the delay. Weeks seem to be getting busier. But I've got another chapter written after this one that I'll try and post tomorrow. This chapter takes place before the events of "I Know What You Did Last Summer".

* * *

_Now…_

_[11/05/2008. 10:47 AM] _

_Hey, Cho'. It's me. Glad to know you changed your voicemail finally. So you were right about that town. Something big was going on: another seal. Some demon named Samhein was raised from Hell and that broke the seal. He's back in Hell, but now we're one step closer to the Apocalypse…oh and some angels are real dicks. Just so you know. Call me._

Chloe waited until she was sure Tess was back in her car and leaving the Kent property, before she let her mask slip. Lois and Clark were missing and the only clue she had was Clark's crystal.

_One crisis at a time people,_ she thought, remembering Dean's voicemail from earlier that day. The Apocalypse was looming and she still had to deal with extraterrestrial problems in her part of the country. Even with a super brain it was getting to be a bit much.

She pulled out her phone, calling a number she'd known by heart before her new powers. _This is Oliver, leave a message._

She glared at the phone, leaving a curt message before hanging up. Oliver had three cell phones on him. She just had to keep trying until she got a hold of him. Then, as soon as she got Lois and Clark back she was going to lecture them both in getting into trouble. She could only do so much.

Luckily, she wasn't the only one fighting the Apocalypse. Sam and Dean were on the front lines for that, but it still felt overwhelming at times. Especially when the problems ran back to back.

_You better be okay, Clark._

* * *

_[11/06/2008. 02:13 PM] _

_Samhein? _The_ Samhein? Wow, that's unsettling. You two are okay, right? Aside from having crappy angel allies, I mean. And how exactly are 'some angels dicks'? I thought Castiel was an okay, guy, er angel. He didn't do anything to Sam, did he? Is it because of Sam's powers? Alright, call me._

"Big Foot?" Sam mumbled as they followed the footsteps.

Dean looked over at him and shook his head. "I don't know man. It's gotta be a hoax." It had to be. Big Foot wasn't real. Imitations maybe, but a real Sasquatch, not likely. "Trickster, maybe?" Dean tried, his eyes still focused on the footsteps in front of them. It didn't look like any Big Foot prints he'd seen. It looked more like a giant animal. A bear probably. _Yeah, a bear that walks on two legs and it three times the size it should be._

"Maybe." Sam agreed.

The footsteps moved towards a narrow footbridge. Dean glanced back at his brother and shrugged, before walking across. They led to the back of a store where the door lay against awkwardly, having been pulled from the hinges.

Dean paused, studying the door. After a beat, he looked over at Sam, knowing his confused expression was mirrored on his brother's face. "Okay," he mumbled.

* * *

_[11/06/2008. 09:24 PM] _

_We're fine. And Castiel's still okay with me. Mostly. He's got a buddy, though. Some punk angel, Uriel, who thinks humans are beneath him and not worth saving. He also threatened Sam. The guy needs to just stay out of our business. He's not any help. Castiel still confuses me. The guy seems just as heartless as Uriel then turns around and tells me his orders had been to follow me. _I_ was their leader. Somehow I don't think that's a good thing._

"Could you warn me next time before you decide to throw me across the room?" Oliver snarked, rubbing a hand over his head. He winced, hitting a sore spot and glared at Chloe.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to. I was just trying to get you to leave me alone," Chloe said. Really she didn't even remember pushing Oliver. She didn't remember much beyond getting the crystal activated. It was a scary fact, but not something she wanted to hash out with Oliver.

"Next time just ask," he commented, his expression softening a little. He stood next to her and studied her for a minute. She knew that look he was giving her. It was the same one he gave any of his boys in leather whenever he thought they were doing something reckless. "Chloe…"

"Oliver, I don't want to talk about it," she cut off.

He sighed and grabbed her shoulders, turning her so she was facing him. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

"I'm not getting myself into anything. I helped save Clark and now I'm done." She pulled the crystal from the generator and set it aside. "You can take this back if you want. Just what I need is Tess to find it here and link me to the Green Arrow." She tried to keep her tone light, but it sounded fake even to her ears.

"Wouldn't want that kind of connection," Oliver agreed, a tight smile gracing his lips.

He squeezed her shoulders before stepping back. "Just keep yourself safe, Chloe."

"You're just worried you'll get stuck doing all the research again," she teased.

"Well, there is that."

* * *

_[11/07/2008. 09:13 AM] _

_Mock me all you want, Dean, but I'm not surprised the angels were ordered to follow you. Just look at what you and Sam do every day. You two make life-changing decisions every time you step into a new town. You're a leader. And this won't be any different than taking the lead during any other case. Remember, there was a reason you were saved from Hell._

* * *

_[11/07/2008. 12:20 PM] _

_Thanks._

* * *

_[11/07/2008. 03:48 PM]_

_Hey, it's Sam. Just calling to check up. I know you and Dean have been playing phone tag, so I thought I'd give it a try…though I don't know what to say that he hasn't already told you…we stopped Samhein. We're trying to stop a magic, wishing fountain…I'm worried about him…also Uriel's a dick._

Sam ran a hand through his hair as he read over the information in front of him. Only a handful of potential wish makers and he still had no idea of how to figure out which one had made the first wish. All the wishes seemed too recent to have been the person they were looking for.

He heard Dean shift in his position on the bed, remaining asleep. He knew his brother just blamed it on the bad sandwich, but there was more to Dean's tiredness than a little food poisoning. Sam had lost count of the number of times he'd woken up in the middle of the night listening to Dean mumble in his sleep. He was having nightmares and they didn't seem to be going away any time soon.

"Just talk to me, man," Sam mumbled, glancing back at his brother's still form. His brother was back from Hell, but he'd brought some extra baggage along.

Not like the Winchesters didn't have enough baggage as it was.

Dean remembered Hell. He was sure of it. Uriel might have been a crappy excuse for an angel, but he knew he wasn't lying. Dean was.

_If only he'd tell me,_ Sam thought as he heard Dean start to mumble in his sleep, signaling a nightmare.

* * *

_[11/08/2008. 08:33 PM]_

_Hey, Sam. Dean told me about the angels. I'm sorry to hear about that. I still think we can trust Castiel, though. He might have his flaws, but he's still one of the good guys, remember…yeah…I'm worried about him too. He remembers Hell, doesn't he?_

Dean drove in silence as they left town. He'd never been more happy to leave a town before. No more wishes, no more Teddy Bears, no more super-children. He was looking forward to the next hunt, anything to keep his mind of his confession to Sam.

Sam kept his gaze directly ahead of him, ignoring Dean when he glanced his way. He knew he was hurt by Dean's declaration, but that was fine by him. Dean wasn't going to change his mind.

Sam didn't need to know about Hell. He had his own problems and Dean wasn't going to dump his on top.

Besides, he could handle it on his own. It would get better in time. It had to.

* * *

_[11/08/2008. 04:15 PM]_

_Yeah. He remembers._

Chloe pulled her phone from her ear and sighed. She'd missed Sam's call, but he'd left a message. Dean remembered Hell, and he wasn't telling Sam anything. She wanted to grab him and shake him until he stopped trying to be so stoic. It didn't impress her and she knew it didn't impress Sam. All he was doing was pushing people away who just wanted to help him.

She held her phone up again, tempted to call him and lecture him about letting people in, but she knew it would do no good. Sam had probably already argued with him and she doubted her words had more impact than his younger brother's.

She still dialed his number, though, deciding there was something else she had to tell him.

* * *

_[11/08/2008. 07:23 PM]_

_Hey, Dean. Guess I missed you again. No, I'm not calling to lecture you, promise. I'm just calling because…well…I want you to be okay. And I know you won't talk to Sam, so you definitely won't want to talk to me, but I have to offer. So, just so you know I'm here if you ever need anyone…also…you probably don't care…but I'm no longer engaged. We broke up. Just thought you might want to know since I know you didn't like him…yeah well, be safe. Call me._

Dean looked over at his brother as he set his phone back in his pocket. "Chloe and Jimmy broke up," he said, still surprised by the message.

Sam shrugged, shooting his brother a confused look. "You didn't know?"

"No," Dean answered. "I didn't know. Was I supposed to?"

"She wasn't wearing her ring the last time we saw her."

"You're right," Dean countered, sarcastically. "How stupid of me not to notice."

His brother shook his head, watching him. "So…"

Dean frowned, confused. "So, what?"

"…Never mind."

To Be Continued…


	35. Lost Facts

**Summary:** Chloe's possessed by Brainiac and he's finally starting to mess with her mind...during a hunt.

* * *

_Now…_

Chloe yelped as the woman stepped forward. "Sam—" she tried, but the woman backhanded her, cutting her cry short. "What do you want?" she whispered, fear creeping up her spine. What was a strange woman doing in her motel room? She needed Sam and Dean. They'd help her.

"I think you know what I want," she woman sneered, her eyes flickering completely black.

Chloe gasped in surprise, stumbling back. "What's wrong with your eyes?" she demanded.

The woman cocked an eyebrow, her eyes remaining dark. "Really? You're going to play that card? I gotta say, you don't live up to the reputation."

"What reputation?"

The woman's eyes flickered back to normal as she smiled. "Chloe Sullivan, the demon tracker. You're helping the Winchesters find Lilith aren't you?"

Chloe frowned, praying the brothers would show up soon. Her mind felt fuzzy again and she had a feeling she'd just forgotten something important. What, though, she had no idea. "You're crazy. Demons aren't real."

"Really?" the woman mocked. She smiled slowly, her eyes flooding black again.

Chloe's heart dropped as she felt something push against her, some invisible force shoving her backwards until she slammed into the motel wall. _Demon,_ she guessed, before screaming.

* * *

_Earlier…_

Chloe looked around her apartment and frowned. It felt off. She recognized the place and the various decorations around the room that belonged to her, but she didn't feel comfortable there. It was like waking up in a strangers home.

"I need a break," she decided, blaming stress for her frazzled memory. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew the real reason for her condition, but she wasn't ready to face that.

She pulled out her phone and dialed one of the few numbers she could still remember by heart.

"Hey Dean, where are you guys?"

* * *

"So no more wishing well?" Chloe asked as she settled onto a bed, Sam sat next to her and Dean across from them in a chair.

"Nope, the coin's been melted down and the town's back to normal."

"No more Teddy Bears," Dean added, giving a mock shudder.

"Oh almost forgot," Chloe said suddenly, pulling a newspaper from her bag and handing it to Sam. "I saw this on my way here. I figured it might be your kind of thing…or it's another alien princess."

"A what?" Dean asked.

Chloe smirked, shaking her head. "You have your weird, I've got mine."

"Ookay," he mumbled, but didn't press the question. He knew better than to question what went on in Smallville.

"Local man, Mitch Howard, found dead in apartment," Sam read. "No sign of forced entry, but bruises were found on the body indicating possible struggle."

"How did he die?" Dean asked.

"Heart stopped."

Dean curled his lip in disgust. "Please tell me it isn't more ghost sickness."

"I don't think so," Chloe answered. "He didn't have a heart attack. His heart just stopped working, like it gave out on him."

"Death by exhaustion?"

Chloe shrugged. "Maybe, but whatever it is it has happened to two other men."

"Guess we can look into it."

* * *

Chloe glared at her phone as it rang for the third time in an hour. She knew without looking it was the same number, too. _I don't know you. Stop calling,_ she thought, pressing the ignore on her phone and flipping it closed.

"Last time I was in South Dakota I was ten-years-old," she mused. "And I'm pretty sure my dad wouldn't have let me make friends with some guy his age named Bobby."

* * *

Dean brought his beer up to his mouth, watching Sam question the bar's owner. Chloe sat next to him, holding her own drink tightly. "Maybe it's just some psychotic bartender," she suggested. "Some woman poisoning men's drinks, but they don't feel the effects until they get home."

Dean studied his drink for a beat before pushing it away. "Maybe, but with our luck it's never that simple."

"Good point," she agreed, watching him scan the other customers. He frowned slightly at something behind her. "What is it?" she asked, turning. A group of men stood around playing pool. One of them was watching her. He winked when she met his gaze.

"Subtle," she mumbled, turning her back on him.

Dean's frown turned into a glare. "Guy looks like a real charmer."

Chloe rolled her eyes, resting a hand on his arm. "Focus, Dean. Leave Casanova alone with his stick."

Dean blinked, turning his gaze to her. His mouth twitched in amusement as he studied her. "You've gotta be careful now," he mused. "Without your ring you don't have protection against creeps like that."

Chloe frowned, looking down at her hands. "What ring?"

"Your engagement ring. You stopped wearing it when you broke up with Jimmy, remember?"

Chloe's frown deepened. "Jimmy?"

Dean smirked, letting the comment go as Sam approached their table. If Chloe wanted to forget her ex-fiancé who was he to bring him up? "Hey Sam, you get anything?"

Sam settled into a seat, nodding. "Yeah, the owner said Mitch and the other two victims were regular customers. They didn't know each other as far as he could tell, but they were all known to come visit on Friday nights."

"Did he say if they all picked up the same kind of girl."

"No, as far as the guy knew the men only had one type: hot."

Dean nodded. "Sure."

"Did the men ever overlap girls?" Chloe asked. "Could they have all picked up the same girl at different times?"

"Maybe. The owner couldn't say. He doesn't watch them very carefully. The girls they do pick up aren't regulars."

"So we wait?" Dean asked.

"Yep."

Dean eyed the crowd of pool players one more time, frowning thoughtfully. "Think we've got time for me to play a game?"

* * *

"So, have you talked to Bobby lately?" Sam asked the next day as he and Chloe climbed into the Impala. They were going back to the bar without Dean to give it another once-over, checking for any signs of a supernatural disturbance.

Chloe frowned, remembering that name from somewhere. "Who?" she tried, hoping Bobby wasn't another important name she'd forgotten.

Sam glanced over at her, a small smile on his face like he thought she was joking. "Bobby Singer. You two have been working together, remember?"

Chloe nodded, remembering the phone calls from a man named Bobby. "Yeah, we're looking for Lilith."

"Yeah…" Sam started. She could feel his gaze on her, but she looked away, hoping he couldn't see the truth.

"No." Chloe shook her head. "I haven't heard from him in a while. But my phone's been acting up lately," she added, in case Sam knew better. She didn't want to be caught in another lie. She didn't need Sam to know what was wrong with her. There was nothing he could do about it, anyway.

Sam didn't argue, though, just nodded, returning his gaze to the road. "Okay."

* * *

"Bobby?" Dean greeted, resting against his headboard. Chloe and Sam were still out on their investigation. He'd been using the alone time to relax.

"Have you heard from Chloe lately?" the older hunter asked without greeting.

Dean frowned, sitting up. "Yeah, she's with us on a hunt. Why?"

"I've been trying to get a hold of her. She stopped answering my calls about two days ago, telling me she'd never heard of a Bobby Singer."

"What? Why?" Dean asked.

"I don't know, Dean. Has she been acting weird with you two?"

Dean shook his head, even though Bobby couldn't see. Chloe had seemed normal since she'd shown up at their motel the day before. "Uh, she didn't seem to remember her ex-fiancé last night," he tried, wondering if it was the same thing. At the time he'd assumed it had been a joke, but now he wasn't so sure. She'd looked truly confused by the mention of Jimmy and her engagement ring.

"Something's up with her," Bobby said. "You better keep an eye on her. I don't know anything about those meteor powers of hers, but I get the feeling her selective memory is somehow tied with them."

* * *

Sam pocketed his keys as he opened his motel door. Chloe gestured to her own room and he nodded. "We'll be over in a minute," he said before walking inside. He wasn't sure he wanted to leave Chloe alone in her room, but he decided a minute wouldn't hurt. Maybe she could sort her thoughts before they returned. She was keeping something from them, he knew it just by the way she kept avoiding his gaze.

"We checked out the bar," he started, pausing when he saw his brother. Dean was passed-out on his bed oblivious to their arrival. "Dean?" He slapped at his brother's boots, earning an annoyed groan.

"Back so soon?" Dean asked, sitting up as he rubbed a hand over his eyes.

"We checked out the bar. There was sulfur in the women's bathroom."

Dean blinked, suddenly awake. "Succubus?" he asked.

"Yep."

"Awesome," he mumbled, standing. "Think it's possessing whatever poor woman happens to walk into the bathroom first?"

"Looks like."

Dean pulled the demon knife from under his pillow and slid it into his waistband. "And how do we find it?"

Instead of answering, Sam paused, tipping his head like he was listening to something.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"I thought I heard Chloe say my name."

Dean glanced at the wall that separated their motel rooms. "We should head over," he decided.

"Maybe she figured out how to track the succubus," Sam suggested, reaching for the door.

As if in response, a scream tore from Chloe's room, sending both brother's rushing out of their room. Dean shoved Chloe's door open, pausing momentarily to take in the area. A woman stood in the middle of the floor. She turned and smiled at them as they approached.

"Dean!" Chloe cried from behind the woman. Her eyes were wide as she stood pressed against the wall.

Dean growled in annoyance, lunging forward with the knife. The succubus laughed and easily stepped out of the way, sending him stumbling away from her. As he righted himself, he heard the demon cry out and the hiss of holy water. He looked back and watched as Sam pinned the demon, rattling off an exorcism.

_No powers,_ Dean thought with a flicker of pride. A moment later, the demon gave another cry as it was exorcised, leaving a startled woman behind. Dean turned his attention back to Chloe, watching her sink to the floor once the demon was gone.

"Chloe?" he asked, kneeling beside her. "Are you okay?" He rested a hand on her shoulder, feeling her shaking under his palm. She looked over at him for a beat, before leaning forward, pressing herself into him. He blinked in surprise, slowly wrapping his arms around her.

"I didn't know demons were real," she mumbled into his chest.

"What?"

She pulled back slightly, staring up at him. "I don't remember."

"Don't remember what?" Dean asked, not liking the scared look in her eyes. He'd seen her frightened by ghosts and demons, but never to the point she was at that moment. She looked like someone who had just realized there were bad things in the dark.

When she shook her head instead of answering, he pulled her closer, his heart clenching at the fear in her eyes. He remembered Bobby's call earlier, telling him something was wrong with Chloe. At first, he'd brushed it off, but now he wasn't so sure Bobby had been wrong.

"It's okay, Chloe," he assured. "You'll be okay."

She nodded against his chest. "I need to go home."

* * *

Chloe shifted in her seat again, looking out her window, at her hands, at the dashboard, anywhere but at the man sitting next to her.

"Chloe?" Dean started.

She kept her gaze on her hands. "I don't want to forget you," she admitted.

His hand landed on her shoulder gently. "I'm unforgettable," he teased with a warm squeeze.

* * *

Dean smirked as he pulled up to the back of the Talon and parked the car. "Bet Sam's glad we stopped. He can finally stretch his legs." Before leaving their motel, Sam had offered to drive Chloe's Yaris back to Smallville so she could stay in the Impala with Dean. Neither of the brothers wanted her driving on her own, with her memory going the way it was.

Chloe looked over at Dean, frowning. "Who?"

"Sam, my brother." He stepped out of the car with her and pointed back to the parked Yaris as Sam stepped out. "The guy who just drove your car all the way here."

Chloe shook her head, looking between Sam and Dean. "I don't…" she started. She held up a hand to her head, her frown deepening. "I'm sorry."

Dean hurried to her side, resting a hand on her shoulder again. "It's okay, Chloe. We'll figure this out," he said, waiting until she nodded before removing his hand.

She stepped towards the back door then hesitated, turning back to Dean to grasp his hand. He offered her a small smile, squeezing her hand. She was scared, he could let a little hand-holding slide. He shot his brother a look as they walked inside, shrugging at his pointed gaze. _No idea, dude._

As soon as they stepped through the door a man met them, his eyes wide with worry. "Chloe? Are you okay?" he asked, studying the brothers. Dean felt his defenses go up as the man watched him. He didn't like the judging look in his eyes. "Who are they?" he asked, eyes lingering over their clasped hands.

Chloe's hand tightened. "Dean and…Sam, his brother. They're…they…" she trailed off, bringing her free hand up to her head. She frowned, getting the confused look on her face Dean had already learned to associate with a lost memory. Something was happening in that super brain of hers and he had no idea what to do.

He hated feeling helpless.

Chloe blinked slowly, looking up at Dean. He recognized the look in her eyes and unconsciously tightened his grip on her hand. She looked down at their clasped hands before carefully pulling hers free. "Do I know you?"

* * *

Sam stepped up to his brother's side as Chloe stepped back towards her friend. Clark Kent, he guessed, remembering her mention him before they'd headed towards Smallville. She'd believed Clark could help her with her malfunctioning meteor powers. "Dean, let's go," he said, grabbing at his brother's arm. He caught the look his brother was giving Chloe and frowned at the pain in his eyes.

He hated feeling helpless.

Clark smiled down at Chloe, gesturing up the stairs to her apartment. "I'll be up in a second." Chloe nodded, walking away without a word. Once she was out of earshot he turned his attention to Sam and Dean. "You're her friends?"

Sam nodded. "Is she going to be okay?" he asked, knowing Clark had answers they didn't.

"She'll be fine," Clark assured.

Dean stepped forward, meeting Clark's gaze firmly. "You better take care of her," he warned. Sam recognized his brother's tone, biting back a smile.

Unfazed, Clark nodded. "I will. I promise."

* * *

"So, Sam and Dean?"

Chloe smiled at Clark's question, settling back into her couch. It had been less than a day since she'd regained her memories and Clark had spent a good portion of that time quizzing her, as if he was afraid some part of her memory hadn't survived. "They're good guys, Clark. I promise," she replied.

"They were very protective of you. I don't think they trust me," Clark confessed. "Especially Dean."

Chloe laughed, imagining Dean's reaction to Clark. "Dean doesn't trust easy."

"He trusts you."

Chloe nodded. "Yeah, I guess he does."

* * *

Dean paced the small motel room. His fingers itched to grab his keys and put the town in his rearview mirror, but he knew he couldn't, not until he knew Chloe was okay.

"She's going to be fine, Dean," Sam said without looking up from his laptop. He'd planted himself behind the screen as soon as they'd checked in and hadn't moved since.

"How do you know?" Dean demanded, turning for another lap.

Sam pulled his gaze from the computer and looked up at Dean. "Her old powers cheated death. If she can handle that I think she can handle a little brain scrambling."

"Brain scrambling?" Dean repeated, slightly disgusted. "Nice."

Before Sam could answer, someone knocked at their door. They shared a look as Dean hurried to answer. He hated feeling anxious almost as much as he hated feeling helpless. If—_when_ Chloe got better he was going to make her promise that she only have problems that could be solved with holy water and rock salt. Those problems he could handle. Not something like memory loss from a meteor power.

He pulled the door open and felt the tension relax in his shoulders. Chloe looked up at him, shuffling slightly where she stood. She licked her lips and smiled, her gaze shifting down to his hand. He followed her gaze, remembering the way she'd squeezed his hand when they'd walked into the Talon. Now, though, she kept her distance, shoving her hands into her pockets.

"So, I think I've got another case, if you're interested," she said finally.

Dean stepped back, letting her inside. "That depends."

"On?"

"Whether you remember my name, or not."

Chloe laughed, her hand reaching out briefly to squeeze his. "You're unforgettable."

Behind them, Sam snorted, but Dean just nodded. "Got that right."

To Be Continued…


	36. PostBattle Doom

_Earlier…_

Chloe smiled when she saw Davis standing in her doorway. "Hey stranger, I haven't seen you around in a while. How are you?"

Davis shrugged, walking inside when she stepped back. "Fine, I guess. I've just been busy sorting my thoughts and stuff."

"Yeah?" Chloe rested a hand on his arm, leading him to her couch. He looked uneasy and nervous. She hoped it wasn't another potential-murderer scare. She'd just barely gotten through to him the last time he'd believed he was a psychotic murderer. She wasn't so sure she could do it again. "Figure anything out?" she asked once they were seated.

Davis nodded slowly, keeping his gaze on his lap for a moment. He seemed to be building up his courage. "There's a lot in my life that I don't understand right now," he started, meeting her gaze hesitantly. "But even with all the crazy things that have come my way lately you've always been there, backing me up."

Chloe nodded, but didn't speak. She wasn't sure where he was headed.

"Without hesitation," he continued. "And I'm still not sure about a lot of things in my life, but the one thing that I'm sure of is how I feel about you."

Chloe blinked, surprised by his words. "Davis…"

He held up a hand, cutting her off. "There's some sort of connection between us Chloe and I know that you feel it too."

She opened her mouth again to speak, but paused when he reached for her face, resting a hand against her cheek. "I held my tongue while you were with Jimmy, but I can't do it anymore." He smiled gently, meeting her gaze before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her lips.

Chloe felt herself reciprocate. She reached for his collar, ready to pull him close when something settled in her gut. _This isn't right._ She pulled back and moved to stand. "I can't, Davis. I just can't."

"Why not?" he asked, standing with her. He studied her gaze, searching for an answer in her eyes. "Is there someone else?"

Chloe paused, a _no_ dying in the back of her throat. It felt like lying and she wasn't sure why. "Davis…" she tried, instead.

He nodded, stepping towards the door. "I understand, but I am not ready to let you go. I will wait for as long as it takes." He gave her a small smile. "You know where to find me."

* * *

_Now…_

"Angels versus demons?" Chloe asked once the brothers finished filling her in on the previous fight. "Wow."

"That's putting it lightly," Sam mumbled.

Chloe shook her head. "Is Ruby…" she hesitated, looking uneasy. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine," Sam answered, hardly surprised by Chloe's hesitation. Ruby hadn't been very high on Chloe's list since she had been possessed all those months before. _That's one thing I failed to mention to Dean,_ he thought, wondering if he should mention that.

Chloe nodded, licking her lips thoughtfully. "You think you'll hear from Anna again?" she asked, looking hesitant about the subject.

Sam watched Dean's expression, letting his brother answer. "Who knows."

"At least she's proof that not all of the angels are dicks," Chloe tried with a wry smile. She still looked hesitant, but Sam wasn't completely sure why.

"Yeah. I guess."

* * *

_Earlier…_

"Ruby came back for me," Sam explained. "Whatever you have to say, she saved me. More than that, she got through to me. What she said to me, it's what you would have said. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be here."

Dean blinked, looking down at the floor once Sam was done talking. He wasn't sure how he felt being compared to the demon, but he couldn't help the small sense of gratitude he felt.

Even if she was still a manipulative demon.

* * *

_Now…_

"Did you know?"

Chloe raised an eyebrow at Dean's question. "You're going to have to give me a little more than that, Dean," she said, unsure about the look in the older Winchester's eyes. Something was bothering him, but she wasn't sure what it was.

"About what happened while I was in Hell. Did you know about Sam and Ruby?"

Chloe looked down at her hands for a minute, remembering the summer without Dean and the pain she'd seen in Sam's eyes. "I knew some. I doubt I knew all of it."

"Ruby saved his life."

She nodded. She knew that much. She didn't know details, but she knew Ruby had saved Sam. After she had been possessed Sam had told her what had happened with the demon. Actually, he'd yelled it at her when she'd starting arguing with him. "I know." She smiled wryly, meeting Dean's gaze. "I still don't trust her."

"She saved his life," Dean repeated, but he wasn't arguing with Chloe, he was just repeating something he hadn't quite grasped yet. "He told me before that he'd tried _everything_ to save me."

"But no demon would deal," Chloe finished.

Dean looked up, surprised. "Yeah."

"I know," Chloe said. It had been two months since Dean's resurrection, but she still remembered the pain. He gave her a curious look and she shrugged, knowing she wasn't ready to tell him everything. "Those four months weren't easy."

Dean shook his head, studying his hands. "I know."

Chloe opened her mouth to respond, but stopped when she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She glanced at the caller ID and frowned. _I'm not ready to talk to you either, Davis._

"Solicitor?"

"No," she shook her head, pressing ignore. "Wrong number."

* * *

_Earlier…_

"_Is_ there someone else?" Lois asked once Chloe was done retelling her encounter with Davis.

Chloe looked up at her cousin's question. "What? No."

Lois smiled knowingly, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Chloe, it's me. You can tell me." She paused, looking uneasy for a moment. "Is it Clark?"

"No, it's not Clark," Chloe stated, knowing for the first time in a long time it was the truth.

"So there _is_ someone else," Lois prodded, her eyes bright with interest.

"No," Chloe shook her head. "Lois, just drop it. This isn't a story you have to break. Just because I broke up with Jimmy and turned Davis down doesn't mean there is anyone else."

Lois shrugged. "Alright," she said, still sounding unconvinced. "But there's nothing wrong with moving on from Jimmy."

"Yeah, I know."

Lois snapped her fingers as if she'd just thought of something. "You and I are going to out."

"Out where?"

"Doesn't matter. Wherever we want. We're two single, gorgeous girls and it's Friday. We should enjoy ourselves."

Chloe laughed at her cousin's enthusiasm. "Lois, you don't have to make me feel better. I'm not upset."

Lois shrugged, moving to the closet. "Well I am," she replied, her tone light with teasing. "My cousin breaks up with her fiancé, turns down her handsome friend after he kisses her then lies to me about some guy she's got on the side."

"Lois," Chloe warned, shaking her head at her cousin's determination.

"Yeah, yeah. No guy. Got it." She pulled out a dress and tossed it at Chloe. "We're still going out. I've gotta find myself some tall, dark and handsome stranger to kiss _me_."

* * *

_Now…_

Dean frowned when Chloe flipped her phone open again then closed it again. "Who keeps calling you?"

She smirked, slipping her phone back into her pocket. "A guy from Smallville. We had a misunderstanding last week."

"So you're ignoring him?" Sam asked, looking up from his laptop.

Chloe shook her head. "No, it's just weird."

"Girl problems?" Dean teased, screwing up his face.

Chloe laughed. "Exactly. Nothing you guys have to worry about."

"Good." Dean stood and stretched. "You and Sam can talk. I'm going go get us some cash."

* * *

"So, you told him everything?" Chloe asked once she and Sam were alone. She'd been waiting all day to talk to the younger Winchester on her own. She wanted to know what he'd told Dean.

"Well, everything but your bonding experience with Ruby."

"That's kind of something big to leave out," Chloe argued.

Sam shrugged, though she could tell he agreed. "I guess. I just didn't think it was kind of a good thing to bring up. I was trying to tell him why I trusted Ruby. Your possession was not exactly one of her finer moments."

"No," Chloe agreed. "It wasn't." She sighed, leaning back in her seat. "You should tell him, Sam. Or I should. He needs to know what Ruby is really like."

Sam huffed out a small laugh, meeting her gaze. "Do _you_ even know what Ruby is really like?" he asked.

Chloe frowned, remembering the feeling of the demon inside her, using her body. "Yeah, I think I've got a pretty good idea."

"Yeah?" Sam shook his head. "Well did you know that body she's possessing is empty?"

"Empty?"

"Jane Doe. Coma patient. The doctors pulled the plug."

Chloe felt a small sense of relief, knowing Ruby wasn't possessing some helpless girl, but it was only a small sense. "I still don't trust her," she admitted with a small shrug.

Sam nodded. "I know."

* * *

_Earlier…_

Sam followed Dean up the stairs to Chloe's apartment, ignoring the curious glances from the coffee drinkers around them. After everything with Anna and the angels versus demons showdown, Dean had suggested heading to Smallville to update the other member of their small group. Sam hadn't even thought of arguing.

Right after he'd opened up about Hell, Dean had closed back up, pretending nothing had happened. It took a lot for Dean to open up, but he was hoping a visit with Chloe would speed up the process a little more. He didn't want his brother to fall back into the façade of everything being okay.

Dean shot Sam a look before knocking on the door. "Think Lois is home?" he asked.

Sam shrugged. "Hear any Whitesnake?"

In response, the door opened and an unfamiliar woman stood in the doorway. "Can I help you?"

Dean hesitated, so Sam stepped forward, smiling. "Hi. We're looking for Chloe."

The woman frowned, giving them both a once-over. Sam recognized the protective look in the woman's eyes, guessing without much difficulty that she was Chloe's cousin, Lois Lane. He remembered a time when he and Dean had thought Lois had made a deal with a demon to bring Chloe back to life.

Before Lois could respond, Chloe appeared at her side. "Hey, guys. What are you doing here?" She was smiling, but Sam saw the warning in her eyes. _Watch what you say around Lois._

Dean shrugged, stepping forward. "In the neighborhood. Thought we'd stop by and see how you were doing, but if you've got plans," he said, nodding at Lois.

Lois's expression had softened at Chloe's greeting, but Sam wasn't sure if he liked the new look she was giving them. "Chloe doesn't have plans," she insisted, pushing her cousin's shoulder a little.

Sam finally got a good look at the shorter cousin and realized she was dressed up to go out. They had probably interrupted them from heading out to a party.

Chloe looked between Lois and the brothers, and nodded slowly. "Yeah. I'm free." She looked down at the dress she was wearing and smirked. "Just let me change first."

Next to him, Dean shrugged and opened his mouth to speak, but Sam cut him off. "You know how to reach us," he said, pulling his brother back towards the stairs. Lois was looking more and more intrigued by them and he knew they shouldn't stick around any longer.

* * *

"I knew there was someone else," Lois said with a laugh as soon as the door closed behind Sam and Dean.

Chloe rolled her eyes, moving to take off her dress. "If you say so."

"So, who are they?"

Chloe smiled. "Good friends."

* * *

_Now…_

Dean jerked awake, sensing something off. He paused for a moment, trying to figure out what had woken him. A crash sounded in the next room and he hurried out of bed, nearly running into Sam when he stood up.

"Chloe," they said in unison, grabbing the nearest weapons and hurrying next door.

Dean heard her scream as he ran through the busted door, Sam right behind him. "Holy…" he muttered, blinking at the large hole in front of him. Something had stormed through and hadn't stopped.

"She's gone," Sam said, pointing to the empty bed. "Whatever it was took her." _Or worse, _Dean thought, searching the dark, empty horizon for any signs of life.

"Chloe!"

* * *

_[11/22/2008. 10:15 PM]_

_Chloe it's Davis. I know you're not picking up because of what happened between us, but I need you to call me back. You're the only one I can trust. I did something horrible._

To Be Continued…

* * *

**A/N:** Since I don't know where the plotline for the shows are going I'll be taking a break from the main-story of Crossing Kansas, but that doesn't mean this is the last update until January 15th. I've got some plans in mind for "Webisodes" and alternate scenes, including finally explaining what happened between Ruby and Chloe and Sam while Dean was in Hell.  
Stay tuned :D


	37. Webisode: Four and One

**Summary:** Four ways Chloe and Jimmy's engagement ended, and one way it never started.

_**

* * *

**_

_**::salt and burn::**_

Sam looked from the small fire at his feet to his brother's face. "What are you doin'?"

"Stopping evil."

Sam frowned, giving the fire a closer look. He was pretty sure he could see bright blue inside the flames. Bright blue, plastic. "Is that Chloe's engagement ring?"

"That thing is evil." Dean paused thoughtfully. "Well, _was_ evil."

Before Sam could respond, Chloe emerged from Bobby's house, looking surprised. "Did something happen?" she asked, looking between the brothers.

Sam took a step away from his brother, deciding he didn't want to be in the way of Chloe's rage. "Ask Dean."

Dean held up his hands, reasoning before she could even get angry. "Chloe, I was doing it for your own good. That ring was evil. I swear."

"What ring?" Chloe asked, before glancing down at her bare hand. "My engagement ring?" She finally noticed the small fire and frowned. "You _burned_ my engagement ring?"

"Actually _salted_ and burned," Sam corrected, smirking at his brother's glare.

Chloe paused before answering, and Sam imagined her coming up with ways to make Dean pay. He just hoped she didn't try to kill him. He kind of liked having his brother around, even if he was an engagement-ring-burning-moron.

"He cheated on me," she said suddenly.

"Who?"

"Jimmy." She frowned, rubbing her now-bare finger. "He made out with some random chick at a bar." She laughed. "And the stupid thing was I brushed it off. I said it was okay. But now, I've changed my mind. I'm not okay with it. I'm going to break it off."

"Why the sudden change of heart?" Sam asked, wondering if Dean _had_ been right.

Chloe shrugged. "I don't know. It's weird. I just suddenly decided I'd had enough."

"It's the ring," Dean muttered, kicking at the dying fire. "Told you it was evil."

_**::change and shift::**_

Jimmy frowned as she slipped on her coat and headed for the door. "Ever since I moved in, you've been spending more time away from the apartment than in it. You aren't avoiding me, are you?"

Chloe looked up at his words, shaking her head quickly. "What? No. I'm just really busy."

"With your demon friends?" he asked.

"They aren't demons. They just believe in them," she clarified, annoyed by his mistake.

"You say tomato…" He shrugged. "I still say you'd rather be with them than with me. You do remember who you're engaged to, right?"

Chloe paused, studying him as he spoke. Something felt off. "Jimmy, why are you acting like this?"

He sighed, stepping closer to her. "I've done everything for you Chloe. I love you, don't you get that? I _changed_ to be with you, and now you're off with those Winchesters all the time."

"Wait," Chloe started, stepping back from her fiancé. "How do you know their names?"

"The Winchesters? Are you kidding? Those two are famous." He smiled, closing the gap between them. "But don't you see, I'm so much more powerful than them. I could _be_ them if I wanted. Or if you wanted me to. All you have to do is ask."

"Ask what?"

"For me to change."

Chloe watched his eyes flash in the evening light, and jumped back. "You aren't Jimmy. What have you done with him?"

"I am Jimmy," he argued. "But I could be Sam, if you wanted." He shook his head. "No, I bet you prefer Dean."

_Shapeshifter._ Chloe realized, remembering the brother's stories. "Where's the _real_ Jimmy?" she demanded, wondering how long the imposter had been living with her.

He sighed, resting his hands on his hips. "Would you relax. I didn't kill him. I just switched places with him."

"How long?"

He shrugged. "Let's just say _he_ wasn't the one who got down on one knee and proposed. That was all me. Ol' Jimbo disappeared right after he backed out of his deal with Lex Luthor."

Chloe glared. She'd never killed a supernatural creature, but before she left her apartment that was going to change. Then, she was going to see the Winchesters about shapeshifter recognition.

_**::dress and whisper::**_

Dean blinked when Chloe opened her door. Now _that _was not what he'd been expecting. "That's a bit much for work, isn't it?" he asked, forcing his gaze from the white gown hugging her body.

Chloe looked down as if she'd just realized what she was wearing. "I was, trying it on. Lois just got it back from the tailors and I wanted to make sure it fit." She stepped back, letting him walk inside. "What do you think?"

Dean gave her another lingering once-over. "You're beautiful," he admitted.

She blushed, pushing up on a loose strap, only to have it fall down again. "These stupid things keep falling down, though."

Dean moved closer, pulling the strap up and setting it on her shoulder. "You must have shrunk," he mused, his hand remaining on her almost-bare shoulder.

She smiled. "Must have."

Dean swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sudden worry he felt in his gut. He'd seen her with an engagement ring for over a month. A wedding dress shouldn't have been any more of a shock.

But it was.

"What's wrong, Dean?" Chloe asked.

_Don't marry him._ He hesitated, surprised by his own thoughts. But not too surprised. Not really.

She watched him expectantly and he opened his mouth to respond, closing it again when nothing came out.

"Dean—" she let out a surprised squeak when he cut her off, leaning forward and pressing his lips against hers. To his relief, she quickly recovered, kissing him back in a way he'd never expected her to.

He pulled back suddenly, both straps of her dress now hanging uselessly. "Don't marry him," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

She licked her lips, eyes wide in surprise, before nodding slowly. "Don't leave me," she bargained.

Dean decided he could make that compromise.

_**And One:**_

_**::live and confess::**_

"_I don't. I'm sorry, I can't."_

Chloe hurried from the barn, praying no one followed her. Her mind was spinning and she really didn't need someone trying to comfort her. _I don't need comforting,_ she thought, pulling the dress away from her feet. _I need someone to help me out of this thing. _By the time she made it to the house, the bottom of her dress was covered in dirt, and she was ready to burn the thing.

"Lost?"

Chloe looked up at the familiar voice, surprised to see the Impala parked at the front of the Kent home. "Dean? What are you guys doing here?" she asked, looking inside the Impala he was leaning against, expecting to see Sam in the front seat. "Where's Sam?"

"At the motel." He smiled softly, like he was telling her a secret. "He thinks I'm on a food run."

"What are you doing here?" she repeated, moving to stand beside him. She leaned against the bumper, not caring that she was probably staining her dress even more.

Dean shrugged as he gave her a slow once-over. "I _was_ planning on crashing the wedding, but it looks like I'm a little late."

"You were going to crash my wedding?" Chloe smiled a little at the thought of Dean bursting into the barn with guns blazing, maybe rambling off an exorcism to really get the crowd going.

"You never sent me an invite. I figured it was fair," Dean answered with a shrug.

Chloe's smile grew and she leaned over, bumping his shoulder with hers. "I'm sorry about that. I figured you wouldn't want to come. I know you don't like Jimmy."

"No." Dean shook his head. "I don't like you and Jimmy. I'm sure the guy is fine, he's just not what I pictured you with. He's too normal_._"

"And I'm not?" Chloe asked, smirking at her question. She knew the answer.

Dean mirrored her smirk. "Welcome to the club."

She reached down to grab the hem of her dress, picking at the dirt staining the edge. "If I had known you were going to crash my wedding I'd have waited a few minutes before leaving."

"Why _did _you leave?"

Chloe swallowed, meeting his gaze carefully. _You,_ she thought, but kept that to herself. That was a confession for a different day. "I just couldn't. It wasn't right."

Dean watched her without responding, his eyes studying hers. She couldn't help but wonder what he saw in them. She'd always tried to keep her thoughts to herself, but she knew she wasn't strong enough sometimes.

After a beat, she stood from the car, crossing her arms against the brisk weather. "So, I was wondering," she started hesitantly, "would you and Sam mind a stowaway for a while?"

"You shouldn't run away from your problems," Dean teased in mock seriousness.

Chloe laughed, feeling the pressure of the day ease a little. "I'm not running away from them, I'm joining them on a road trip."

Dean pretended to look touched, standing from the car too. "Wow, Chlo' I never knew you felt that way." He pulled off his coat and slid it around her shoulders, giving them a small squeeze. "You can join us on one condition."

"What's that?"

"No hunting."

Chloe smiled at his predictability. "Promise."

As they both slid into the front seat, Chloe mentally cursed the day she'd ever decided she wanted a train on her gown. Sensing her struggle, Dean leaned over and helped her pull the rest of her dress inside, smiling at her once they were both situated. "Ready?"

"Just as soon as I get out of this thing." She felt herself blush before the words were even out of her mouth, imagining the look on Dean's face.

"I think I can help you with that."

_**[and one way it never started]**_

_**::confess and apologize::**_

"Surprise," Dean muttered once Chloe opened the door.

He watched her eyes widen in shock, before watering slightly. "Dean?"

"In the flesh," he said, offering her a small smile. He silently cursed Sam for leaving him alone. He could have used his brother for backup on the emotional front.

"I thought you were dead," Chloe whispered, a tear sliding free. "The police station exploded. They said no survivors."

"We were gone before it blew." Dean reached out, brushing a thumb against her wet cheek. He hated that she was crying over him. It killed any illusion he'd had that she would be fine after his deal came due. "I was trying to protect you. Our lives, Sam and mine, are getting more dangerous everyday," he explained, repeating the words he'd rehearsed earlier. "We aren't just hunting down demons anymore. We now have demons hunting _us_ down. I'm not going to let anything happen to you just because you have some strange need to be involved."

"What's so strange about me wanting to help you?" Chloe asked as she reached up to grab his hand, squeezing it softly.

"It's dangerous."

She nodded. "You said that. But I don't care. I want to help."

Dean smiled, feeling a small sense of unease disappear. "Good." He brought his other hand up, holding her face carefully. _Two months_, his mind argued, but he decided that was exactly the incentive he needed. You only lived once and Dean doubted he'd get another chance.

Before their lips met, he saw her smile back and realized he'd been wrong to ever think he could stay away from her. He kissed her deeply, deciding he was even more determined to not go to Hell.

He suddenly had another reason to live.


	38. Webisode: That Summer

**Summary:** Dean was dead for four months. Chloe deals. _[Five stages of grief]_

* * *

_**-denial-**_

"He's fine," Chloe told herself again. Somewhere deep down, she knew she was lying. She had the IQ of a supercomputer and the odds were not in Dean's favor, no matter which way she did the calculations.

But she wasn't going to think like that, because if she was going to stay sane in prison she had to believe he was fine. Dean was alive, because his brother had saved him. And as soon as Clark found a way to save her from her cell, she was going to meet up with the brothers again, and make Dean promise to never _ever_ make another deal with his soul.

Things would go back to normal as soon as she got out. She would help them stop the apocalypse, Dean would argue with her about helping on a hunt, and Sam would keep smiling because he would still have his brother.

_Please._ She squeezed her eyes shut and willed her mind to stop counting the odds. "_Please, _Dean."

He wasn't dead.

He wasn't.

_Escape prison. Learn what happened. Visit Dean's grave. Cry. Become possessed by Ruby._

_**-anger-**_

"You're working with a _demon_?" Chloe asked, her voice straining to stay at a level below yelling.

Sam glared, all the concern he'd had over her possession vanished. "Don't you dare lecture me. You have no idea what I'm going through," he snapped, obviously not bothering to hold his own tone in check.

"She's a demon, Sam. They're evil. Nothing you've gone through could possibly make that okay," she snapped back, wondering at their ability to go from calm to yelling in seconds. This was what she and Dean did, not Sam. Sam smiled and comforted, and let her comfort him.

"I'm trying to save my brother!"

"Find a different way!"

Sam's glare sharpened, but Chloe didn't back down. She need to yell. She needed to get through to him. "She's helping me," he argued.

"How? With your 'powers'?" she asked, spitting back the words she remembered Ruby using when she'd been possessed. "Because whatever she's doing it can't be good. She's not your friend, Sam. You have to know that."

"She saved my life!"

"She's still evil!"

"Yeah?" Sam shot back, and she briefly thought she saw his anger fade. "Well maybe I am too."

Chloe's anger faltered and she almost gave in.

Almost.

"Don't you dare say that," she ground out, shoving a hand against his chest. "It's an insult to you _and_ your brother."

If it was possible, Sam looked even more angry. "Don't talk about Dean."

"Why? Someone has to." She was poking a wild animal, but she didn't stop. The animal

needed a wake-up call. "He went to Hell and you're just begging to follow!"

"You don't know what you're talking about!"

She shook her head and glared right back. "Then tell me."

_Fight with Sam (some more). Get attacked by a demon. Witness Sam's powers. Promise not to tell. Leave._

_**-bargaining**_-

Chloe stood and brushed the dirt from her hands, ignoring the way they shook. Her mind screamed at her to leave, but she didn't. She had to know. There had to be a way.

"Well this is nauseatingly touching," a voice teased from behind her. She turned and frowned at the smirking man. "You've come to bargain for Dean's soul." His eyes flashed red as he stepped closer. "Did Dean know how much you cared?"

"What do I have to do?" Chloe asked, her voice trembling as much as her hands.

"To save your precious Dean?" The demon shrugged. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" It couldn't be that simple.

"Yep, you don't have to do anything." He smiled and moved closer until he was staring down at her. "Because I'm not going to make a deal."

"What?"

"Oh don't look so surprised, honey. My coworker wouldn't bargain with Sam, what makes you think I'd bargain with you?"

"Please," Chloe whispered without even realizing she'd spoken out loud. "Just tell me there's some way to save him."

She wouldn't sell her soul. She knew she couldn't, because if she did Dean would never forgive her. But there had to be something.

There had to be a way to save Dean.

Sam needed him.

"Sorry. Dean's not making a return trip."

"Please." Chloe closed her eyes to keep the tears at bay. "There has to be a way. Please."

When she opened them again, the demon was gone.

_Cry at crossroads. Curse demons and Hell and stupid, self-sacrificing brothers. Go to Bobby's. Get new charm. _

_**-depression-**_

"I promised him, Bobby." Chloe wiped at her eyes, wondering when she'd finally run out of tears. "I told him I wasn't going to let him die, and now he's dead. _And _I promised to look after Sam, and now he's disappeared."

She kept her attention on the floor in front of her, avoiding Bobby's face. She had little doubt her tears and words made him uncomfortable, but neither would stop. Dean was burning in Hell and all she could do was cry about it.

She couldn't even keep her promise.

"It's not fair."

The couch shifted under Bobby's weight as he sat next to her. "No, it's not, but it's done." He dropped a heavy hand on her shoulder and squeezed until she looked at him. "He made that deal before he met you. There was nothing you could have done to stop him. Beating yourself up about it isn't going to bring him back."

His eyes were bloodshot, but she couldn't tell if it was from tears or the bottles of alcohol around his home. Or both.

"Sam's a wreck."

"I know."

Chloe leaned forward, resting her face in her hands. "I broke my promise."

Bobby's hand moved across her back, squeezing her other shoulder. "There's still time."

She leaned into his touch briefly, before pulling away to face him. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"You shouldn't be comforting me. You knew him longer." She frowned, bothered by her own selfishness. "All I ever did was butt heads with him. I should be comforting _you_."

Bobby shook his head. "I don't do the whole touchy-feely thing." He offered her a small smile then wound his arm back around her shoulders and pulled her against him.

"I miss him," she whispered, pressing her face into his chest as another sob shook her shoulders. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was ashamed of her tears and wanted nothing more than to pull herself together. But for now she let it go. She needed this.

Bobby nodded. "Me too.

_Cry some more. Share a drink with Bobby. Drink to Dean. Drink to Sam. Drink to the future. _

_**-acceptance-**_

Once she put her new superbrain to work, it took less than two hours to track down Sam. She was tempted to visit him and attempt another round of arguing, but decided against it. Sam needed his space for the moment, and she was going to give it to him.

But she wasn't going to let him fall off the grid again. She knew he was lost without his brother, and she'd already seen what he was willing to do without him.

Dean was dead.

The thought still hurt like poking a wound, but she knew she had to move on. Dean was dead, but Sam was still alive.

And she had a promise to keep.

_Live._


	39. Legion Remix

**A/N:** Apologies for the delay! I hope to have more written soon, but until then here's an update!

* * *

_Earlier…_

Dean jerked awake, sensing something off. He paused for a moment, trying to figure out what had woken him. A crash sounded in the next room and he hurried out of bed, nearly running into Sam when he stood up.

"Chloe," they said in unison, grabbing the nearest weapons and hurrying next door.

Dean heard her scream as he ran through the busted door, Sam right behind him. "Holy…" he muttered, blinking at the large hole in front of him. Something had stormed through and hadn't stopped.

"She's gone," Sam said, pointing to the empty bed. "Whatever it was took her." _Or worse, _Dean thought, searching the dark, empty horizon for any signs of life.

"Chloe!"

* * *

_Now…_

"_This was the Phantom Zone crystal. I know my history, this was supposed to be used to extract Brainiac from whoever he possessed."_

"_The Persuader didn't come to kill Kal-el, he came to make sure Brainiac survives." _

Clark shook his head, staring at the Legion trio in front of him. Rokk, the leader; Imra, the mind-reader; and Garth, the alien equivalent of a fanboy. All three of them claimed to be aliens from planets other than Krypton, but not only that, they all claimed to be from the future—the 31-century. After everything he'd seen and done, time travel wasn't that hard to believe, but he wasn't going to believe them just because they asked him to.

Especially not when they claimed Brainiac was still alive. He had killed Brainiac almost a year earlier, and Jor-el had wiped out the last of the supercomputer's influence after Clark had taken Chloe to the fortress.

Rokk claimed the Phantom Zone crystal was the only way to completely destroy Brainiac and it had been smashed by The Persuader. Clark was used to people showing up in his barn uninvited, but having an ax-wielding psycho (aka The Persuader) show up out of thin air and take a slice out of his side was a little against the norm. Especially when said-psycho was followed by a group of self-proclaimed time travelers/aliens/Legion-members.

Clark really just wanted to find Chloe and prove she was okay. He still didn't completely believe the Legion's worries about Brainiac, but he knew he'd feel better once he saw his best friend.

"This girl you're thinking about, why do you think she has something to do with Brainiac?" Imra asked, reading his mind.

"I don't know," Clark lied.

"You think she is Brainiac's the host," Rokk guessed.

Clark moved past them, heading for the door. He needed them out of his house _now_ so he could fix things his way. "If Brainiac is still out there, then I'll find him and I'll stop him. The three of you can go home to the future," he said, opening the door. "Let me handle this."

The Legion stepped forward. "If Brainiac isn't stopped today, we won't have a future to go home to," Rokk argued. "Kal, the problem is, you were supposed to defeat Brainiac using _this_ shield," he continued, holding up the damaged Phantom Zone crystal. "Now that it's been smashed…"

Clark shook his head. "The crystal can't be the only way to stop Brainiac."

"It's the only way to destroy him without killing the human host in the process," Garth explained.

Kill? Clark frowned. No, they weren't killing Chloe.

"Kal, I'm sorry, but if you know who the host is, you need to take their life. There is no other choice," Rokk stated.

Imra stepped forward, staring up at him. "Who's Chloe Sullivan?" she asked, reading his mind again.

Clark didn't answer, just bolted.

* * *

He ran, concentrating on the scenery as he passed it. He wasn't sure exactly where he was going, but he knew the general area. Chloe had mentioned meeting some friends in Missouri, but she wasn't answering her phone so he couldn't be sure where in the state. Before he could get too far, he sensed someone following him and slowed to a stop.

The Legion flew overhead and touched down in front of him. "Where were you running to?" Rokk asked, moving closer.

"To find Chloe and prove that she's fine. She was cured," Clark said, glaring slightly at the lead Legion member. He wasn't killing Chloe. No one was. Not while Clark was around.

"Kal-el, I have to tell you, we've heard of Lois Lane, Lana Lang, even Jimmy Olsen, but we've never heard a thing about any Chloe Sullivan," Rokk said, his meaning evident in his tone. They'd never heard of Chloe, because she hadn't survived long enough to make history.

"I don't care. We aren't killing my best friend. There's got to be another way." He glared at the Legion, daring them to argue before speeding off again. He was going to fix this his own way.

* * *

"I want to learn more about this Chloe Sullivan. Imra's following Kal and will let us know when he finds Chloe," Rokk said, as he and Garth moved around Chloe's apartment, searching everywhere for information on Brainiac's host. Kal-el was not willing to kill his friend for the greater good, so they needed to.

Garth sorted through some books and binders, whistling as he read. "Woah, she has a lot of information about superhumans," he said, closing one binder and opening a notebook. "Rokk, look at this," he called, gesturing for his leader to join him. "She's got notebooks full of information on the supernatural: exorcisms, spells, definitions of ghosts and goblins." Garth paused, flipping through the pages some more. "I didn't think people knew this much about the supernatural at this time."

Rokk stood and read over his shoulder, surprised by the amount of information in Chloe's notebook. "The supernatural wasn't as widely known at this time, but there were people who dedicated their lives to stopping it."

Garth nodded. "Maybe that's why we've never heard of her," he suggested, looking excited by the new possibility. "Maybe she's a hunter. There aren't exactly history books filled with hunters."

Rokk grabbed another binder, pointing to the word _Isis_ on the cover. "If she's a hunter, then why is she working for Isis? She's taking on the superhuman _and_ the supernatural? That's a bit much for one person."

"Exactly," Garth agreed. "Maybe she gave up Isis to continue her career as a hunter."

Rokk shook his head. "Or maybe, she died when Brainiac was destroyed."

* * *

Clark hesitated in front of an old motel, located on the edge of a city. Police cars were stationed around the parking lot, and a small crowd of people stood in the middle of the cars, looking startled. He almost continued on, deciding it wasn't his business, but then he noticed Chloe's car parked in the middle of the chaos.

_Chloe!_ He jogged forward, looking for any sign of his friend. If he knew Chloe, she was in the middle of everything, trying to get information from every source available. When he rounded the corner of the motel, walking up to the group, he froze. The room in front of him looked like a boulder had plowed through the front door and continued on through the back of the room.

Police tape, covered the massive holes, but it did little to stop the onlookers from getting close enough to peek inside the room.

"What happened here?" Clark asked the first person he found.

The older woman looked up at him in slight annoyance and shrugged. "How should I know? I've never seen anything like this before? Apparently the occupant didn't like their room."

"Who was staying there?" Clark asked, praying it wasn't who he thought it was.

The woman sighed, looking ready to brush him off, but something in his gaze stopped her. "Like I told the police, I never got the girl's name. She came in with two men and they paid with a credit card. The name on the card was Lyle Herndon."

"Can you describe the girl?" Clark pressed, already guessing the response. A girl with two guys. Chloe with Sam and Dean, the friends she'd mentioned meeting.

"I didn't get much of a look, but she was a short blonde, and the two guys she was with were much taller. Brothers maybe? But judging from the way Mr. Herndon was looking at Blondie, I don't think she was related."

Clark nodded. "Thanks," he mumbled, stepping back from the crowd. He gave Chloe's room another scan, looking for anything the police might have missed. Aside from her car still parked in the lot, there was no sign of her in the room. If she'd had any personal belongings in the room they were all gone.

Making sure no one was looking, he blurred away, continuing down the street. Chloe was gone, but where were her friends? Had they been taken too? He continued into town, moving at a regular pace once he hit downtown, and looking through the crowds for any sign of Chloe's friends.

"Clark?"

He spun and found himself staring at two men Chloe had only recently introduced him to. "Where's Chloe?" he asked.

Dean stepped forward, his eyes a mix of worry and anger, and Clark felt his hope die. If Chloe was with them Dean wouldn't have looked so worried. "What are you doing here?" Dean demanded.

"Looking for my friend," Clark responded, his tone sharp. Rokk's warning playing through his head.

Sam stepped up to his brother and placed a warning hand on his shoulder. "Dean," he started, but the older brother just brushed him off. Sam sighed. "Something took her," he explained.

"Something?" Clark repeated, looking between the two older men. He'd known something like this was going to happen. Chloe was barely safe with Smallville and its problems. She didn't need to add cross-country trips into the mix.

"We don't know what it was," Sam admitted. "It came in the middle of the night and we never got a good look at it."

"Why weren't you protecting her?" Clark snapped, stepping closer and glaring down at Dean.

"I always protect her," Dean argued, glaring back at him. "Whatever nabbed her is not in our jurisdiction."

"And what exactly _is_ your jurisdiction?" Clark asked, wanting to know more about the men Chloe continuously put her trust in.

Sam stepped between the two of them, using his height advantage to glare down at both of them. "This isn't helping Chloe," he said. "We need to figure out what grabbed her so we can figure out how to stop it."

Clark looked between the two brothers and nodded. "Fine. We'll split up," he bargained.

"Tell us if you find anything," Dean ordered, almost sounding relieved to be rid of him.

Clark moved past them around the building they were stationed in front of, waiting until he was out of sight to speed off. "I will," he called back. He rounded the corner and jumped, nearly running into Imra.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, keeping his voice soft.

Imra looked around him as if she could still see the brothers, despite the corner. "They're telling the truth. They don't know what took Chloe away."

"Do you know what took her?"

Imra shook her head. "No, but whatever it was I'm sure it has something to do with Brainiac."

"Fine, then I know where I need to go."

"Where?"

"The Fortress. Jor-el will have answers."

"Clark," Imra started, "please reconsider."

Clark glared. "Never." Without another word, he ran off, leaving the Legion member in his wake.

* * *

Dean looked at Sam and frowned. "What the hell is a Brainiac?"

* * *

Clark watched Chloe move around her apartment, packing as she went. It was great to see her back to normal. No more Brainiac, no more superbrain. Just Chloe. Despite their earlier intentions, he really owed the Legion one for helping to save his friend. "Heading out already?" he asked.

Chloe nodded, shoving something else into her bag. "I already called Sam and Dean to let them know I was safe, but they want me to visit. I don't think they trust a phone call."

Clark stepped closer, resting a hand on her shoulder to still her for a moment. "Chloe…" he started, trying to think of a way to voice his worry without her getting defensive. He knew brothers were important to her, but he still didn't feel safe having her with them all the time.

"Clark, it's okay," Chloe said, reading his thoughts. "I'm safe with them, I promise. Whatever that creature was that nabbed me I think was more alien than anything else. Sam and Dean couldn't have stopped it if they'd tried." She frowned. "They'd probably be dead if they had tried."

Clark swallowed as he watched her imagine her friends' deaths. He didn't want to think of himself as jealous, but when he saw how much the brothers meant to her he couldn't help it. He was jealous of what they meant to her. "I guess I'm just jealous they get to monopolize so much of your time," he admitted with a sheepish smile.

Chloe smiled back. "Oh come on," she teased. "You still have Lois."

"I still miss my best friend."

She nodded. "I miss you too, but there's just some stuff I've got to work on right now."

Clark studied her, trying to read her thoughts. "What are you doing with those guys? You know you can tell me anything."

"Not everything," Chloe answered. "Some things aren't mine to tell."

"Just keep yourself safe."

To Be Continued…


	40. Stressed Regroup

**A/N:** Apologies for the delay (again). I've got one more episode in the works, then I'll be on another hiatus until the new episodes.

* * *

"Why didn't you tell us you were possessed?" Dean demanded, standing so rigid, Sam half-expected to hear his spine crack.

"You couldn't have done anything. It wasn't a demon," Chloe argued back.

Sam stood between them, torn between joining in, and just waiting for the fists to fly so he could intervene. Chloe had arrived less than an hour ago, and she and Dean had been going at it since. Dean didn't do helpless very well, and after Chloe had been kidnapped he'd been pushed to his limit. There had been nothing he or Sam could do, and, as a result, Dean's worry had built up until it was ready to burst, as soon as Chloe stepped through the door.

Sam almost felt bad for her.

"Then what was it? An _alien_?" Dean said, spitting out the word like she'd just made it up. Sam had to admit, he was still a little skeptical about the word, too. Though, if he thought about it, it wasn't completely out there. Chloe's powers came from extraterrestrial rocks, after all. Why couldn't there be aliens out there? Aliens, with alien computers that could possessed people and gave them super-human intelligence.

Yeah, it was _way_ out there, even for him. But it was Chloe. Why would she make that up?

Chloe glared. "Yes. I already told you. It was an alien computer. It came down with the second meteor shower."

"So, you were possessed by some alien creature, but you didn't think it was important to tell us?"

"I didn't want you to worry."

Dean threw up his hands then stepped forward so he was glaring down at her. "You can't pull that card anymore, Chloe."

"Pull what card?"

"The one where you insist on being partners, but don't expect us to care when something happens to you."

"Why can't you just let it go? I'm back. I'm safe. Let's just move on. We've got an Apocalypse to stop, remember?" Chloe said, attempting to move past him to reach her bag. She had information she needed to share.

"To Hell with the Apocalypse. You got kidnapped by some unknown creature, in the middle of the night, on _my_ watch. I want some answers."

Chloe cocked an eyebrow. "Wouldn't we all." She shrugged. "I don't have any answers for you. I don't know what that creature was. I just know it's gone."

"For how long?" Dean questioned.

"Forever. Hopefully."

Dean shook his head. "We can't do this anymore."

"So that's it?" Chloe demanded. "You're just going to run away again?"

"I don't run," Dean shot back. "And that's not what I was talking about. You can't keep things like this from us. Either we're in this together or we're done."

"Keep things from you?" Chloe's face grew stony with annoyance, and Sam hesitated, knowing he should prepare for the worst. "Look who's talking. You have no right to pull the honesty speech." Her gaze shot over to Sam, capturing them both with her words. "Neither of you do."

"No," Dean said, raising a hand as if to cut off her argument. "I agreed to let you be a part of this fight. I've kept you up-to-date with everything we know."

"Yeah? How 'bout your nightmares, Dean? You haven't exactly been forthcoming with those."

"That's none of your business. I can handle it myself."

Chloe crossed her arms, looking smug. "Exactly."

* * *

"You should tell her."

Dean glared over at Sam. "No."

Chloe had disappeared into her own motel room, deciding they'd had enough heated words for the night. Dean was still a little hesitant about letting her stay in her own room after what had happened last time, but he wasn't about to suggest she stay with them.

"Why not, Dean?" Sam pressed.

Dean shook his head, silently wondering how his brother could understand him so well, and yet be so ignorant. "Because, as much as I enjoy confessing my sins, I don't need to have a repeat performance. You asked me about Hell. I told you. And now we drop it."

Sam looked ready to argue, but just sighed. "We should work on the case."

"Tomorrow."

* * *

_There was light and darkness, pain and joy, and in the middle of all of it, Chloe stood. She could feel something beside her and in front of her and all around her. _Caution_. Whispered words. _

Care for him_. _

_Evil. Good._

Watch him_._

* * *

"So, he was strangled to death by the garden hose?" Chloe mused, looking over the news report.

Sam nodded. "Looks like."

"And we think this is a case?"

Sam shrugged. "Dean thinks it's a case. And considering the guy was murdered inside a locked room, I'd say he's probably right."

"I still can't believe you guys are pulling another job. Weren't you just finishing one when I got here yesterday?" Chloe asked.

"Gotta keep working," Sam answered simply.

"And keep avoiding the issue."

Sam shook his head, sighing softly. "Go easy on Dean, okay?"

Chloe nodded, slightly surprised by his words. She'd thought Sam would agree with her.

"He _is_ talking," Sam admitted. "Well, he _talked_. Once," he amended. "But for Dean that's more than I'd ever expected."

"So what now?" Chloe asked. "We just wait for him to build up his pain a little more and burst again?"

Sam leaned forward and looked her straight in the eye. His eyes a mix of understanding for her and protectiveness for his brother. "It was Hell, Chloe. No matter how hard we try we'll never know what it was like for him. Just be patient."

Chloe smiled softly at the brother's words. It wasn't often she saw Sam move to protect his brother (Dean usually didn't give him the chance) but it was still nice to see. "I will."

"It'll take a while, but Dean knows he has people who want to help. He just has to remember that."

* * *

"Where are you going?"

Chloe's reflection smiled at Dean's. "To an interview. Remember?" She ran a hand through her hair, taming a few stray locks. "Of course, I told you this _before_ the interrogation, so it probably slipped your mind."

"You aren't doing this alone," Dean said, crossing his arms.

She turned and faced him, frowning at the look he was giving her. Overprotective was one thing, but Dean looked ready to lock her in a tower to keep her safe. And she just didn't like Rapunzel enough to let him get away with it. "Dean, it's an interview. You've let me do this before. I'm the one with actual credentials. Well, _expired_ credentials, but it's more than a fake badge and a rocker alias."

Dean shook his head. "Why can't you just stay behind? Why do you have to keep getting involved?"

Chloe paused, studying him before answering. She had a feeling he was feeding her one of those double-meaning questions Clark was almost famous for. "Because, when the world does finally end bloody, I want to know I tried my hardest to stop it," she answered, deciding that was the safest answer.

Dean watched her for a beat, giving her a once over. "Want a ride?"

* * *

Sam stood over the open grave with Dean, watching him light the match and drop it onto the soaked bones. As soon as the flame caught, he stepped back, waiting for the fire to burn away the old man's earthly remains. Ghostly gardener, that was a new one for their list.

Dean stayed at the edge of the grave, frowning down at the flames. After a beat, he crossed his arms and glanced at Sam over his shoulder. "Did you tell her?"

"What?"

"Chloe," Dean explained. "Did you tell her what I told you. What I told you I _didn't_ want to tell her."

Sam shook his head instantly. "No. It's not my place."

"Good," Dean nodded, returning his gaze to the grave. "Good."

Sam stepped forward so he was standing beside his brother again. "She's stronger than you think, Dean," he said.

"That's not what I'm worried about." Dean shook his head. "Well, not the _only_ thing I'm worried about."

"Then why do you keep shutting her out?"

Dean looked up at his brother briefly, before turning away. "It's not her problem."

"If you don't deal with it soon, it'll be everyone's problem," Sam pointed out, remembering how his brother had tried to handle his feelings on his own after Dad had died. Somehow he knew dealing with his time in Hell would take a lot more than a roadside confession. Dad's death had been heartbreaking, but Hell…there weren't words.

Dean didn't answer.

* * *

Chloe opened her motel door, surprised to find him at her door so late. He smelled like smoke, but he didn't look harmed. Apparently the grave burning had been a success.

"Is it completely gone?" Dean asked, without stepping inside her room. "That alien computer, Brainiac, is it gone?"

She blinked at his question, surprised by it. "Yeah. He's gone. And there won't be any repeat possessions." She had told the brothers as much as she could in regards to Brainiac and the Legion without giving away Clark's secret. They knew about the exorcism, but as far as they were concerned, Clark had pulled it off without any help from future superheroes.

_Yes, Clark knew about Brainiac._

_He tried to stop it once, but the computer was very powerful. _

_Computers don't react well to electromagnetic shocks…and no, it didn't harm me. _

They believed her, or were at least willing to go with the explanation she had given them, but she couldn't help wondering if there was going to come a point when the truth was going to come out, no matter how hard she tried to cover. Clark was her best friend, but she'd be lying to herself if she said the Winchesters weren't high on her list. Eventually, the two groups were going to start interacting more and it was going to be hard to keep suspicions at bay.

Dean nodded. "Good."

"Yeah." Chloe shrugged lightly, attempting for humor. "It's nice to be computer free, but when Brainiac was exorcised, so was my super-intelligence. So, that means we'll have to go back to tracking demons the old fashioned way."

"I'd rather do that than have you carried off in the middle of the night again," Dean said.

Chloe licked her lips and moved to grab some information from her bag. Dean followed her inside. She'd meant to show them sooner, but _things_ had come up. "Good to hear, but we still have a problem. Seals are still being broken. I don't know how many, but it's not looking good." She pulled out the news reports and handed them to Dean. "We personally may not have had any recent Seal activity, but that doesn't mean it isn't going on."

"How do you know these are Seals being broken?" Dean asked, flipping through the papers.

"When a Seal is broken it's sort of like when a demon arrives on the scene. Temperature fluctuates, there's cattle mutilations, the whole nine yards. The only problem is these signs don't show up until after the Seal is broken. So, I have no way of knowing if the case is a potential Seal until the end," Chloe explained. She gestured to the news reporters, pointing to the headline he was currently on. "And it's not like the cases are exactly screaming potential Seal material. They've ranged from hauntings to zombies to vampires."

"So, basically, without your superbrain, we aren't going to know what's a Seal until we're too late?" Dean asked.

"Basically."

"Great." He set the articles aside and shrugged. "Alright fine, we'll find another way. You found a pattern, there's probably another one we can find. We don't need an alien-computer to win this war."

"It was kind of nice, though."

Dean shook his head. "It wasn't worth it."

She smiled at his words. He was protective, but for the most part it was comforting. And probably even appropriate. She was still getting used to the world of the supernatural, and he had grown up in it. It was only fair that he watched out for her. She knew she'd do the same thing if the threat was alien. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

"For?"

"For letting things happen the way they did. I didn't know I'd get kidnapped out of my bed, but I still knew there were risks to Brainiac. I'm sorry I worried you."

Dean shrugged. "We're partners, it's in the handbook to worry about each other. But a little heads-up is always appreciated."

"Promise."

* * *

_Again, there was light and darkness, pain and joy, and Chloe stood, trying to place her surroundings. She wasn't alone, but she couldn't see the other person. _

Wasn't his fault.

_Good. Evil._

You'll have to chose.

_Enemy. Friend._

Care for them.

* * *

Chloe answered her phone on the first ring. "Clark?"

"Chloe, I need your help. Something's going on with Lana."

To Be Continued…


	41. Revealing Trick

_Now…_

_[Bedford, Iowa]_

_Husband bashes wife's head with meat cleaver._ Sam shook his head, remembering the abusive, yet loving, husband's tale. He knew it was a siren, but the murder was still gruesome, especially since the man had loved his wife so much.

It was scary what a little supernatural mind-whammy could do to a person.

He spotted Dean across the crowded stripper joint and motioned for him to come over. As usual, his brother had thrown himself into the case. He claimed it was excitement over the strippers, but Sam knew better. Something was going on in Dean's head and it wasn't any excitement over a stripper-case.

It had been almost a month since Chloe had headed back to Smallville to help her friends and, aside from a few phone calls, the communication had been very little. He knew she was still looking into more Seals, but with her other worries in Smallville, he wasn't sure how much time she was willing to spend on them.

After Dean's last confession about Hell, Sam had been tempted to call her and beg her to pay a visit. Someone needed to break Dean from his depressed slump and he was hoping she was the person for the job.

Of course, that would require Dean to open up to her. Which wasn't likely.

"Any luck?" he asked, once Dean reached his side.

"No. You?"

_Not yet,_ Sam thought, answering an unasked question. He was going to fix Dean, but for now, they had other things to worry about.

* * *

_[Wellington, Colorado]_

Chloe waved when she spotted the brothers across the diner. They nodded back and motioned for her to join them. It had been a while since she'd last seen them, but she could see a change in their expressions. The secrets that had been bothering them earlier had only grown in the time she'd been absent. Cursing their stubbornness, she made a vow to do everything she could to fix things. The brothers hadn't been the same since Dean's resurrection and it was hurting everyone.

She smiled as she slid into a chair across from them. "So, what's the news in Wellington, Colorado?"

Dean set a newspaper in front of her, pointing to the lead story. _Mother Suspected of Murdering Child. _"Her kid went missing five days ago and there's been no sign of him since."

Chloe skimmed the article, frowning at the information. "She thinks her son was transformed into a monster?"

Sam nodded, stretching a little in his seat. "Yep. We interviewed her earlier today and she told us something broke into her house and transformed him."

"Then the little monster ran off before she could stop them," Dean finished, looking slightly amused by the information.

"Okay…" Chloe shook her head. "And aside from the crazy-mom angle, what do you guys think happened?"

"Chaos demon," Sam answered with a simple shrug.

"Chaos demon?" Chloe repeated. "And that is?"

"A demon that causes chaos." Dean smirked at her annoyed frown. "What? It is."

"We think it might be a Seal," Sam explained, pulling out some more information from his bag. "Chaos demons are rare, and very hard to kill. And Dean's right, these things cause chaos without any trouble. They give off an energy that throws things off balance for a time."

"For a time? You mean it isn't permanent?" Chloe asked, still uncertain about how this indicated a Seal. But then, so far, most Seals had seemed ordinary until the end.

"Not usually, no. If that boy was really turned into a monster, he'll probably turn back soon."

"If something doesn't kill him first," Dean added. "That's the problem with these demons. The initial chaos isn't permanent, but the aftermath usually is."

"So, kill the demon and stop the Seal?"

"Yep."

Chloe nodded. "Alright. Let's get started." She pushed back from the table, but paused before standing up. "Have you guys tried looking for the boy-turned-monster yet?"

The brothers shared a look and shrugged. "We've been tracking down the demon. We didn't have time to worry about the boy."

"Fine." Chloe stood. "I'll look."

Dean stood, too. "Not without me."

* * *

There was a patch of woods behind the town. According to the mother of the child-monster, the area had already been searched, but Chloe wanted to give it another once-over. If the boy had really been turned into a monster he was probably hiding somewhere dark, possibly waiting to attack an unsuspecting victim.

"Monster in the dark woods," Dean muttered as they moved through the trees. "It's a bit cliché."

"But probably true," Chloe countered, moving her flashlight to search the area beside her.

Dean waved his flashlight, letting the beam bounce off the trees. "Do you think this is 'where the wild things are'?"

"You do realize there's a little boy out here somewhere, right?" Chloe asked, frowning at him.

He didn't bother looking, though, just kept playing with his flashlight. Eventually, he turned and pointed the beam at Chloe, aiming it at her chest. "You're curious, aren't you?"

"What?" Chloe asked, sensing a change in conversation, but not sure of the new topic.

"Hell." Dean moved the flashlight under his chin so his face was lit from the below, giving him an eerie glow. "You want to know what I did down there."

"I want you to talk about it," she argued, giving the woods one last glance before moving closer to Dean. The search was going to be postponed, it seemed. "I think it'll help."

He sneered and Chloe resisted the urge to look away. It was a disturbing sight. "No amount of talking is ever going to make up for what I did."

Chloe swallowed. "What did you do?"

He dropped his arm and darkness captured his face. "I tortured souls. And I enjoyed it."

She shook her head, pointing her flashlight at his face and watching him blink against the light. "Liar."

"I'm not lying." He stepped closer until he was looking down at her and his features were, once again, lit from below. "I was in Hell for forty years. I was tortured for thirty. And I tortured others for the last ten."

She just blinked, trying to wrap her mind around his confession. She'd expected pain and suffering (_it was Hell, after all_). But _that_? It was a simple, straightforward confession, and it still made her weak-kneed. Yet, she couldn't see any emotion on Dean's face. He didn't care, or he didn't _want_ to care. He was just listing facts. They meant nothing to him.

Except, she knew they did.

"Dean…" she started, trying to find something to say. _I'm sorry. It wasn't your fault. Thirty_ _years is a long time._

"What?" He pressed. "What are you going to say that's going to make it all okay? What _can_ you say to make what I did okay?" She imagined his words spoken in anger. Imagined him glaring down at her, and his voice raising until his words echoed through the trees.

But he didn't. And, in a way, that was worse.

"You don't think that was part of your torture?" she asked finally. "You don't think Hell knew that the only way to break you was to have you break others?"

"I broke the moment I got off the rack and let myself enjoy others' pain." He shook his head, letting emotion slip past for a brief moment. "I didn't deserve to be saved."

"Don't say that," Chloe argued.

He shrugged. "It's the truth."

Before she could respond, movement sounded nearby.

"Mommy?"

A little boy stumbled into view and blinked up at them. "I want my mommy."

Chloe scooped the preschooler up and turned back to Dean, but he was already walking away. "It's going to okay," she whispered, holding the little boy tighter when he sniffled. "I promise."

* * *

It was still dark when Chloe returned to the motel. The boy was back with his mom, the chaos demon was still on the loose, and Dean was now missing. "If you pull away from me again, Winchester…" she started, but the threat died before it went anywhere. She couldn't threaten him. She couldn't even get angry.

She just wanted to fix him. Whatever that meant.

Sam wasn't in his room, but she decided it was for the best. She needed time to think about what had Dean had told her. She needed time to plan what to say.

* * *

_There was light and darkness, pain and joy, and Chloe was pretty sick of it. She wanted an explanation, not a riddle. She wanted answers._

You'll have to choose.

_He was near. She could feel him, but she couldn't see him. He remained just out of sight, hiding in her peripheral. _

Choose wisely—

She blinked and sat up, sensing someone at the end of her bed.

"Good dream?"

There was a man perched near her feet, smiling at her like he was privy to a joke she would never know.

"You should know," she responded, wondering if she was still dreaming. There was something odd about the man's face. It looked human, but she could sense something in his eyes, something otherworldly. "You're the one giving them to me."

The man shook his head, looking offended. "I don't do dreams. They're a little too Biblical for my taste."

"Then what do you want?" she demanded, knowing she was being a little too casual for the situation. A strange man was in her room—on her _bed_—and she hadn't gone for a weapon.

"I want you to make a choice." He gestured to the wall behind her, to Sam and Dean's room. "And I want you to stick with it, no matter what."

"Choice?" Chloe remembered fragments of her dreams. The same command, whispered through her mind almost like an afterthought. "What choice?" she asked, even though she knew the answer. It was obvious. It had been obvious since the beginning.

Two brothers. Two paths.

One choice.

It was like a cheesy, epic movie.

The man shrugged before snapping his fingers, and—

She blinked and sat up, knowing, without looking, that her bed was empty. "That isn't a choice," she argued to the empty room. "I won't choose."

On cue, the sound of smashing glass echoed from the Winchesters' room, followed by raised, irritated voices.

* * *

_The Sam I knew is gone. It's not the demon blood or the psychic crap. It's the little stuff. The lies. The secrets._

_You're too weak to go after her, Dean. You're holding me back. You're too busy feeling sorry for yourself, whining about all the souls you tortured in hell. Boo hoo._

Chloe glared at the two men in front of her—two brothers facing off. One flirting with the dark side and the other believing he wasn't worthy of anything else.

Sam and Dean. Dean and Sam. And in the middle, Chloe stood. Literally.

"I won't choose," she said. "Don't make me choose."

The man from before held up his hands as if weighing her options. "Sam or Dean? Whose corner are you going to back?"

"There aren't going to be any corners," she argued, looking up at the brothers. They hadn't moved since their initial outburst with heated words and a broken desk lamp. Now, they just stood and glared, as if trying to win the standoff through sheer force of will. The man had done something to them. Time had frozen, or maybe just the brothers. She wasn't sure. But she was sure she wanted him to leave and let things return to normal.

"Look around, Blondie. _This_," the man said, gesturing between the Winchesters, "is exactly what's going to happen. It's inevitable."

"Nothing's inevitable. We have choices."

"Exactly." The man nodded. "Now what's yours."

"You're the chaos demon," Chloe said, instead of answering. She couldn't believe she hadn't realized it before. Her world was off balance and the reason behind it was smirking at her from across the room. "You set this whole thing up."

"Maybe I did, but I am _not_ a demon."

"Then what are you?"

The man shook his head. "Make your choice, then we can play the 'who's who' game."

Chloe swallowed, wondering how much of the last day had been real, if any.

Dean had tortured souls in Hell, and was slowly falling apart with guilt.

Sam was, once again, working with Ruby, using powers he never should have been given.

And neither of them seemed to care about the gap that was growing between them every day. The gap that Chloe was sure she was about to fall into.

"Both," she answered, daring him to argue. "I choose both of them."

There was a snap of fingers, and Chloe braced herself for the fallout.

* * *

_[Bedford, Iowa]_

"Dean look, you know I didn't mean the things I said back there? That it was just the siren's spell talking?"

"Of course. Me too."

"Okay. So, we're good?"

"Yeah, we're good."

* * *

_[Smallville, Kansas]_

_There was light and darkness, pain and joy, and Chloe was no closer to solving the riddle, but she'd made a choice and she wasn't going to take it back._

Watch them.

_He was near. She could feel him. And he was going to show himself soon, she just had to be patient._

To Be Continued…

* * *

**A/N: **Since the shows are on hiatus, I'll be on hiatus, too. And, hopefully, by then I'll be able to get back on schedule with posting new episodes regularly. Sorry for the delays! And if you're at all confused about this last chapter, just ask :D


	42. Calm Before

**A/N:** I wasn't planning on updating until we got new episodes, but I realized I left a lot of things messed up in the last chapter. So, here's my attempt to give the trio some moments of calm before the inevitable storm.

* * *

_Now..._

The diner was crowded with a lunch rush, but Sam still spotted Chloe as soon as she walked through the door. He waved to catch her eye and watched her pause in the doorway before moving closer. She was studying them as she walked forward, her eyes sharp in a way he had once thought was all reporter and now knew was hunter, too.

"Please tell me you're real," she begged, dropping into the booth next to Sam. She was smiling, but he could still see the hesitation in her eyes.

"Last time I checked," Dean answered, sharing a look with Sam. "You expecting someone else?"

Chloe shook her head, relaxing into the back of seat. "No." She quirked an eyebrow at Dean. "You'll do."

"Cute," he snarked, the corner of his mouth twitching like he wasn't sure if he was amused or not. Sam just smirked.

"So, what's the case?" Chloe asked, glancing at Sam out of the corner of her eye.

"A woman was charged with murdering her children," Sam answered, pulling out the news article. "She claimed she didn't know what she was doing at the time. Like she was possessed."

Chloe glanced at the article. "Demon?"

"Probably." Dean nodded. "Or spirit."

Chloe kept her attention focused on the article for a moment, before looking up. "Have you two ever heard of a chaos demon?"

Sam blinked, surprised by the question. "Yeah. Why?"

"Did you run into one?" Dean added, looking worried. Chaos demons were nasty creatures, almost worse than the regular Hell's angels they fought.

"No. I just heard about them." She shrugged. "But my source wasn't completely reliable."

"Wikipedia?" Dean teased.

Chloe smiled. "Not exactly."

* * *

There had been a time when it had been hard to catch one brother without the other. When she had first met them, Chloe had thought of them as a unit. Now, though, it was almost too easy to find them separated. Dean had come back from Hell, but she was worried those four months had done too much damage.

They were no longer the close unit they'd once been, and she couldn't help but wonder what that meant for their future.

"I don't know how to help him," Sam admitted. He stopped pacing and settled at the end of his bed, looking over to Chloe. The motel room had been silent after Dean had left with the excuse of finding food.

Chloe had resisted the urge to argue that it had been mere hours since they'd left the diner. She knew there was more reason behind his retreat. Both brothers had a habit lately of leaving the other alone with her. She wasn't sure when it had happened, but somewhere along the line she'd become their group's counselor—and she couldn't have felt less qualified for the job.

The brothers weren't meteor infected teens. They were grown men who had just as many problems as her. She could no more counsel them than she could stop the apocalypse single-handedly.

But in the end, she knew the brothers weren't really looking for a counselor (at least not in the Dr. Phil sense). They just needed another person to be there, who wasn't their sibling.

"Do you even want to?" Chloe asked, stepping into her role without a second thought. She still remembered the words the imaginary Sam and Dean had thrown at each other. She couldn't help wondering how many of those words were felt by the real Sam and Dean.

Sam stood, shaking his head. "Of course I do. He's my brother."

Chloe nodded and held up her hands, cutting his argument short. "I know, Sam, but what about Lilith? You've been so focused on stopping her, it's like you've forgotten your brother has literally been to Hell and back."

"I haven't forgotten," Sam stated, his eyes narrowing. He paused, realization dawning in his expression. "Dean told you about our fight, didn't he? He doesn't believe it was just the siren's spell talking. He thinks I meant what I said."

Chloe raised an eyebrow. "Siren?"

Sam's anger seemed to deflate at her question and he sank back onto his bed. "He didn't tell you?"

"No, but you better," she said. "You two were infected by a siren?"

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. It looked like he wasn't going to talk for a moment, but then he did and Chloe just sat in stunned silence, remembering the argument the non-demon creature had made her witness.

_The Sam I knew is gone. It's not the demon blood or the psychic crap. It's the little stuff. The lies. The secrets._

_You're too weak to go after her, Dean. You're holding me back. You're too busy feeling sorry for yourself, whining about all the souls you tortured in hell. Boo hoo._

"Dean would have killed me," Sam explained, avoiding her gaze as he retold the events of their latest hunt. "And I wasn't even scared. I was just angry he was going to win." He swallowed. "I was angry I couldn't kill him first."

"It was a spell, Sam," Chloe argued. "You know you can't help what you do when you're possessed."

He shook his head. "He was right, though. I'm not the Sam he used to know. I've changed."

"And so has Dean." Chloe moved to sit across from Sam, staring at him until he met her gaze. She smiled a little, knowing it would do nothing to lighten the mood. "You'd have to be a robot not to have been affected by what you two went through."

"He doesn't trust me."

"Can you blame him?" Chloe asked, knowing better than to pull any punches with the Winchesters. "You've been sneaking around behind his back with Ruby. Again."

Sam looked up in surprise. "How did you know?"

"I'm not sure exactly what he was, but my money's on some kind of trickster. He showed me some stuff about you two," Chloe admitted.

"You met the Trickster?" Sam asked, looking even more surprise.

"You two have your own personal trickster?" Chloe questioned, amused by the idea, though it would explain the creature's interest in her and the Winchesters.

"We hunted him two years ago and he tried teaching me a life-lesson last year."

Chloe shook her head. "It doesn't matter if it was the Trickster or not. What does matter is what he showed me."

"What was that?" Sam asked, sounding nervous.

"The truth," Chloe answered. "I know about Ruby, and your crusade to fight Lilith on your own. I know about Dean's time in Hell. And, I know you're both straddling a widening-gap and pretty soon you'll have to pick a side."

Sam returned his gaze to his hands, instead of arguing, as she'd expected.

"The Trickster made me choose between the two of you," Chloe continued, earning a surprised glance from him. "I refused. You're both good men, and I'm going to back both of your corners." She paused, praying her words got through. "But it would be a whole lot easier if you were both standing on the same side when all was said and done."

Sam nodded slowly. "We will be," he said, and Chloe did her best to ignore the hesitation in his tone.

* * *

"I didn't." The woman shook her head. "I wouldn't. I _couldn't_." She glared across the desk at Sam as if he'd accused her of something. "I loved my children. I protected them from everything. I never would have killed them."

Next to Sam, Chloe nodded. "Then, what happened, Mrs. Green?"

"Something was controlling me. I didn't have any control over what I did. I just had to watch while my body…" she hesitated and Sam felt his heart tug. He knew what it was like to have his body under supernatural control. "My body smothered my children."

Sam felt his phone vibrate and motioned for Chloe to continue the questions as he pulled his cell from his pocket.

"Did you smell anything strange beforehand? Like rotten eggs?" Chloe asked.

Sam flipped open his phone, frowning at the text from Dean. _Sulfur._ His brother had gone to investigate Mrs. Green's house while he and Chloe had handled the interview. He handed the phone to Chloe, cutting Mrs. Green's response off. Chloe read the message and frowned, too.

"What is it?" Mrs. Green pressed. "Is it about my case?"

Chloe looked over at Sam, silently signaling for him to take over. "We just got a new lead, Mrs. Green." He stood and indicated for Chloe to follow. "Thank you for your time."

Chloe stayed seated, reaching across the table as if to grab Mrs. Green's hands, but stopped. "It wasn't your fault," she assured.

Mrs. Green shook her head. "No, I'm just going crazy."

"No," Chloe insisted, finally grabbing hold of the older woman's hand. "I promise you, it was not your fault."

Sam saw relief flash in the woman's eyes before they turned bitter. "Tell that to the judge," she quipped. "Or my children."

* * *

"I'm not telling you about Hell, Chloe. So quit bringing it up," Dean ordered, pacing the short length of the motel room as his brother had done only a day earlier. Sam had left as soon as the three of them had met at the motel, insisting he needed to ask Mrs. Green a few more questions about the days before her children's murders. Chloe hadn't thought to argue. She knew the real reason Sam was making himself scarce.

It was Dean's turn with _Dear Chloe_.

"You don't have to, you already did," Chloe responded, offering him a smug smile.

Dean frowned. "I did what?"

She shrugged. "Well not _you_, just a really good imitation." She smiled at his confused expression before giving him a brief overview of her previous experience with the Trickster and his pseudo Sam and Dean.

"Why didn't you tell me you knew?" Dean asked, looking torn between surprise and annoyance.

"I just did," Chloe argued. She stood from her seat and stepped in front of him, stopping his pacing with a look. "But I was hoping you'd tell me first."

"Why?" He raised his eyebrows questioning. "It's not your problem."

She shook her head. "No, it is my problem. You said it yourself: we're partners, it's my job to worry about you. And I'd say knowing your memories of Hell are torturing you is a perfectly good reason to worry."

"So what now? I retell you about my time in Hell, and you hold me while I cry?" Dean snarked, his face set in the expression Chloe knew to associate with his defense mechanism. He was throwing up walls to block her out.

She glared. "How 'bout you wipe that smirk off your face and stop acting like you aren't hurt?"

"You're right," Dean admitted, though his tone was still sharp with annoyance. "I can barely go a day without thinking about Hell and what I did there. But I'm not going to spend the rest of my life feeling sorry for myself. I'm going to move on, and if the memory never leaves, then fine. I'll be fine."

"Yeah?" Chloe countered. "And how long are you going to walk around carrying all that guilt? Because that you _can_ deal with. That guilt you've got bottled up inside over those last ten years, you can move on from."

"How?" Dean asked. "I tortured souls. And I enjoyed it. That's not something you just 'move on from'."

Chloe swallowed, remembering what she'd told Dean's doppelganger. The words hadn't worked before, but that hadn't been Dean. "You were in Hell, Dean. Getting off the rack didn't change that fact. You think the demons stopped torturing you just because you 'gave in'?" She met his gaze, and willed him to listen and understand. "Hell knew that the only way to break you was to have you break others."

She braced herself, ready for the same argument pseudo-Dean had thrown at her.

When he stayed silent, she took a chance and stepped closer, grabbing his arms. "You have to forgive yourself, Dean. If you don't, they win."

Dean stared down at her for a beat before nodding slowly. "I'll try."

Chloe smiled.

* * *

_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te. Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare._

Dean kept his eyes on the possessed body in front of him, watching the demon twitch under the exorcism.

_Vade, Satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis. Humiliare sub otenti manu dei, contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine, quem inferi tremunt._

The demon yelled and Dean clenched a fist, ready to silence the creature if it chose to speak. He didn't need the hell-spawn running its mouth.

_Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine. Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos. Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae humiliare digneris, te rogamus, audi nos. Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae te rogamus, audi nos. _

Dean shot his brother a look, smirking slightly as the exorcism came to an end. Sam mirrored his smirk, standing behind Chloe confidently.

"_Terribilis Deus de sanctuario suo. Deus Israhel ipse truderit virtutem et fortitudinem plebi Suae. Benedictus Deus. Gloria Patri._" Chloe punctuated the final words with a glare, stepping back as the demon was exorcised. She'd done it, without any help of a book or alien computer.

She was learning fast and as much as that scared Dean, he was proud.

* * *

Chloe slung Sam's backpack over her shoulder, heading towards the motel door. The hunt was over and the brothers were off for another case. Before opening the door, she turned to face the youngest Winchester. "Let me help," she asked.

"With?"

"With this hunt for Lilith," she explained, watching him frown protectively. He was almost as predictable as his brother. "I don't completely agree with the way you've been going about this, but I'm not letting you do this alone." She held up a hand to stop him from interrupting. "And don't tell me it's dangerous, because it'd be redundant and an insult to my intelligence."

Sam sighed, and quirked one shoulder. "It's not safe," he muttered, a smile creeping onto his face at his teasing.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "So what? I'm going to help. If you can put your trust in Ruby, you should be able to trust me."

"I don't trust Ruby," Sam admitted. "Not completely, at least." He stepped closer and rested a hand on her shoulder. "But I trust you."

"Good."

* * *

"Sam's returning the keys," Chloe said as she joined Dean at the trunk of the Impala. He took Sam's bag from her shoulder and set it on top of the false bottom.

"Heading home?" he asked, closing the trunk then leaning against it.

She mirrored his position, but angled her body so she was facing him. "No, I'm going to head over to Bobby's. Research and all that."

"You really can't stay away, can you?" Dean teased, knowing the answer.

She smiled slightly, before her face grew serious. "Not anymore. Now I've got a stake in this war."

"A stake?"

She nodded. "I told the Trickster that I chose both of you, and now I've gotta make sure my team wins." She reached over and grabbed his arm as she'd done during their last conversation. She hesitated before continuing, and Dean was startled by the amount of emotions in her eyes. "You're a good man, Dean Winchester."

"Chloe…" Dean started, wondering at her insistence to continue a conversation from days earlier. She was almost as bad as Sam, at times. (_And he was annoyingly grateful_.)

"Don't you dare argue," Chloe interrupted. "It's true, and I'm not going let you cut yourself down." She squeezed his arm, her eyes wide with worry and conviction—and compassion. It was the last one that usually scared him the most, because it was the last one that was going to get them into trouble. "Please, forgive yourself. You deserve it."

He wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her until she came to her senses and returned to her life back in Smallville. She said she was a part of the fight whether he liked it or not, but he just wanted her to forget about the war. He wanted her to stop caring, because it would be easier, and it was about time something was easy in his life. _Why does she care?_

Chloe frowned, her grip on his arm tightening as her eyes flashed with something he didn't want to recognize. "Because, I'm not giving up on you, even if you want me to," she said, answering a question he hadn't realized he'd asked.

He just stood, wondering what he was supposed to say to that. Hesitation crept up, begging him to smirk and throw out a sarcastic one-liner to defuse the situation. But he couldn't, because he knew what it would do to Chloe. She was putting herself on the line and he couldn't just blow her off.

But that didn't mean he knew how to respond.

Chloe sighed and ducked her head, embarrassment flashing in her eyes. "I've gotta…" she started, releasing his arm and taking a step backwards. She gestured towards her car and made a move to leave. Dean frowned, sensing an important moment slipping away. He had to do something.

Without another thought, he grabbed her arm and pulled her back to his side. He could lie his way in and out of most problems, twisting words to help him in almost any situation, but at that moment he couldn't think of anything to say.

He was good with words, but then there were other things he was good with, too.

Reacting on an instinct he'd been ignoring for longer than he wanted to admit, he cupped her cheek and leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers in a way he knew spoke better than anything he could have said.

She didn't pull away, so he pulled her closer. Somewhere, his brain reminded him it was Chloe in his arms, the woman he'd been keeping at a distance for a reason. But he decided his brain could take a flying leap. He was going to enjoy this while he could.

It was the end of the world, after all.

And she was kissing him back.

To Be Continued…


	43. Over Again

_Earlier…_

_There was light and darkness, pain and joy, and Chloe was no closer to solving the riddle, but she'd made a choice and she wasn't going to take it back._

Watch them.

_He was near. She could feel him. And he was going to show himself soon, she just had to be patient._

---

He was going to enjoy this while he could.

It was the end of the world, after all.

And she was kissing him back.

---

_Now…_

"Oh crap," Chloe whispered, staring at the article in front of her. "Clark, what did you do."

"Chloe?"

She jumped when Bobby walked up behind her, setting a mug of coffee next to her. "Hey, Bobby."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Hey, Chloe. Everything okay?"

Instead of answering, she gestured for him to take his seat next to her. Once he was settled, she turned her laptop so he could read the article. "Welcome to my world," she mumbled, before taking a long drink of coffee.

_Clark Kent Alien From Krypton!_

Chloe sighed.

This was going to be interesting.

---

"Alien?" Dean questioned.

Sam ignored him, keeping his attention on the passing scenery. He knew the question wasn't directed towards him. It wasn't directed towards anyone at the moment. If anything, Dean was just practicing what he would say when they met Chloe at Bobby's.

So far he hadn't moved past 'alien?.'

When the Impala pulled in front of Bobby's house, Chloe was waiting for them on the porch. "That was fast," she mused, standing from her perch on the steps.

"Disappointed?" Dean joked as he moved to her side.

Sam frowned, watching the two of them move closer. It was only for a moment, but he saw both of their faces light up with matching smiles, before fading into their usual teasing smirks.

He shook his head, wondering what had changed between them—and if he even wanted to know. "So, your friend, Clark, is an alien?" he asked, joining them on the porch.

Chloe shrugged. "Yep."

---

"So is that some kind of human mask he's wearing?"

"Nope, that's all him."

"Convenient."

"Yeah, especially with the super speed and strength."

"And x-ray vision."

"And heat vision."

"_And_ super hearing."

"Yeah, guys. I get it. Can we move on now?"

"Wait…can he fly?"

"Not yet."

"What do you mean 'not yet'?"

"Never mind."

---

"No," Chloe argued, shaking her head sharply. "This isn't Clark's fight, I'm not putting him in the middle of the apocalypse."

Sam shrugged. "He seems pretty suited for the job."

Dean watched her reaction, recognizing the protectiveness in her eyes. It was the same look she got whenever she thought someone from her home was going to come in contact with the supernatural world. It was a protection he could understand.

"He's not completely invulnerable. I doubt he'd last much longer than us against an army of demons." She crossed her arms. "Besides, he's got enough of his own problems."

"Don't we all," Bobby quipped from the doorway. He stepped into the library and looked between the trio. "I suggest you boys drop it. It's not right to ask people into a fight that isn't theirs."

"Thanks Bobby," Chloe said, offering the older man a smile.

"You're welcome. But if I find out that your super-friend has some demon-killing powers I expect him to be on the front lines," he stated, smiling slightly in return.

Dean risked a glance at Sam, catching his eye and feeling their friend's words hit a sensitive area.

"Of course," Chloe replied lightly, though, Dean knew she was thinking the same thing he was. _We already know someone with those powers._

"So, hate the change the topic, but speaking of the apocalypse…" he hinted, giving the group a knowing look.

Chloe shot him a grateful look and took over, grabbing information she and Bobby had collected over the last few days and directing the conversation towards a slightly safer and less extraterrestrial focus.

Dean watched her as she and Bobby explained the information they'd found and the possible Seals that had cropped up across the country. Her best friend was an alien from another planet. An alien who looked like a man, and was probably capable of keeping her completely safe from all, if not most, of the problems she usually found herself in. Yet, she chose to put herself in the middle of a supernatural war that her friend knew nothing about, and couldn't protect her from.

He wasn't sure if that was reckless or not, but he was strangely relieved—and that scared him.

---

Chloe hung up her phone and smirked when a gust of wind sped past her. "Nice timing," she mused, turning to smile up at Clark.

"I have a problem," he said, ignoring her comment.

Chloe nodded, leaning back against the hood of a junker. Bobby, Sam and Dean were still in the house, talking about the brothers' latest case. Chloe had stepped outside as soon as Pamela's death had come up, giving them some space.

Clark had called a few minutes later.

"What's wrong?"

Clark frowned, pacing in front of her. "Linda Lake was going to expose my secret, so I decided to tell the world my secret on my terms."

Chloe nodded. She knew this part of the story.

"And now, she's got the FBI on my tail, claiming I'm the first step in some alien invasion."

"What?" Chloe frowned, grabbing Clark's arm to stop his pacing. "Have the FBI contacted you?" she asked, thinking about all the extraterrestrial threats that had appeared over the years: meteor showers, Brainiac-influenced blackouts. The list was long and highly suspicious when connected with a recently exposed Kryptonian who happened to live in the area where the attacks usually centered.

It didn't look good for Clark, but then, if he had asked her before exposing his secret she would have told him that.

"They confronted me at the farmhouse and I left. You were the first person I called." He ran a hand over his face, stressed. "I don't know what to do."

"You shouldn't have exposed yourself to the world," Chloe observed, knowing that fact was obvious at this point, but she couldn't help the small bit of sarcasm from slipping into her tone. Normally Clark would go to her first before making big decisions about his secret. She wasn't sure when she'd stopped being his confidant, but she had a feeling it had happened around the same time she'd stopped being a regular visitor of her own home.

"I know," Clark agreed, looking unhurt by her sarcasm.

"Can you ask Jor-el for a do-over?" she asked, though the idea of playing with time didn't sit well with her.

He shook his head. "Jor-el's gone. The fortress is dark."

"Maybe we can still fight this," she suggested, hating the defeated look in her friend's eyes. "Show the world the good you can do and expose Linda's shady past, and the world may change their opinion."

"Maybe," he agreed, though he didn't look too convinced. He looked up suddenly, an idea forming in his eyes. "My Legion ring," he started. "The Legion left me a ring that is capable of time travel. I just never thought I'd have to use it."

Chloe nodded with the idea. It could work, but: "Just remember what happened last time you played with time," she warned. "Who knows what the consequences will be if you go back."

"I have to. The world fears me right now, and I can't save them if they're afraid of me."

"Be careful," she said, instead of arguing.

"I will." He offered her a tight smile, gesturing towards Bobby's home. "How did your friends take my secret?"

Chloe smirked, remembering the startled exclamations over the phone that were followed by wide-eyed stares once they'd reached Bobby's house. "Well," she said. "Not much startles them these days."

"Good." He paused, looking uncertain for a moment. "You're okay with them, right?"

Chloe bit her lip, a smile creeping onto her face before she could stop it. "He kissed me," she stated, laughing slightly at her words.

"Who?"

"Dean."

Clark's eyebrows rose comically, and he looked back towards the house as if he could see Dean. _He probably can,_ she mused. "Dean? Really?"

Chloe frowned. "What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing," he said quickly, holding up his hands in defense. "I'm just worried about you, it's my job as your friend, remember. And after your broken engagement to Jimmy I don't want you settling, again."

"Dean wouldn't be settling," she argued. "Besides, nothing's going to happen. He just kissed me. That's it."

Clark looked at her knowingly. "Trust me, if Dean's smart that won't be it."

"Meaning?" she asked, feeling herself blush involuntarily.

He smirked. "You don't give yourself enough credit, Chloe."

She brushed his comment away with a wave of her hand. "Whatever, Clark. As soon as you make like the (back-to-the-future car) this conversation won't matter."

"Yes it will," Clark said. "I'll remember."

Chloe grabbed his arm, commanding his full attention. "In that case, remember this: I'm safe with these men, kiss or no kiss. I promise."

"Doing what, exactly?" Clark pressed.

She shrugged. "Saving the world."

---

_Now (again)…_

"Hey Bobby, look at this," Chloe called. She heard movement in the kitchen then Bobby stuck his head in the room.

"Yeah?" he asked, holding two cups of coffee.

She turned the her laptop so he could see the article. "Yesterday, two men dropped dead in Greybull, Wyoming."

Bobby cocked an eyebrow. "And?"

"And, only a few days before those men had both had 'miraculous recoveries' from brushes with death. One man had been pronounced dead from cancer, only to recover moments later in perfect health, and the other was shot in the heart by a mugger but walked away with nothing but a hole in his chest. Then, yesterday whatever miracle they had must have worn off." Chloe frowned at the idea of miracles being yanked out from under people without warning. It was unnerving.

"Sounds like a deal gone bad."

"Like a crossroads deal?" she asked, watching him skim through the article.

He nodded and adjusted his baseball cap. "I think the boys are near by. I'll give them a call and tell them to check it out."

"Or we could check it out," Chloe mused.

He shook his head, frowning in a way that didn't quite take the amusement from his eyes. "Is my company boring you already?"

She rested a hand on his arm and nodded. "Completely. I need stimulation."

"You're about as funny as Dean."

"I try."

---

When it came to taking down evil, Dean loved to strike a match and light things on fire. Digging up bones were morbid, but if it saved lives he didn't hesitate. He actually enjoyed the fire.

But the fire in front of him he couldn't enjoy. He could barely even look at it.

"What happened?" he asked, choosing to stare at his feet instead of the fire—or Sam.

"I woke up and Pam was being jumped by a demon. Some low-level thing. It stabbed her then got spooked and ran off."

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, attempting to ignore how rehearsed his brother's response sounded. It was a lie. And worse than that, he was pretty sure Sam knew that _he_ knew it was a lie.

"It's pretty lucky how all these demons keep turning tail and running when they see you," he commented.

"Yeah." Sam agreed. "Lucky."

Dean sighed, pulling his attention from his feet to the burning corpse in front of him. _What did you tell him, Pamela?_

---

Chloe frowned, looking around the junkyard. It was eerily quiet and she couldn't shake the feeling she wasn't supposed to be there.

"Relax," a voice assured, followed quickly by a man stepping (_or appearing_) in front of her.

"Castiel," Chloe greeted, knowing the man (_angel_) in front of her without recognizing his face. She wasn't sure when she'd figured it out, but it was his voice that identified him. It was the same voice she'd been hearing for nights in foggy dreams. "Am I dreaming?" she asked, looking around the clear landscape of the junkyard.

"Yes," the angel answered. "I decided it was time we talked."

"You mean with riddles, or are we going to use real, big-people words this time?" she snarked, though her tone was softened in his presence.

"I'm uncertain about the role you play with Sam and Dean," Castiel said instead of answering.

"If you're going to tell me to stand down you can leave now," she stated, crossing her arms defensively. "I signed on as their partner before you ever entered the scene."

"No, that's not it."

"Then what?" she pressed, feeling anxious. She knew the angel was powerful, and she wasn't in the mood to be threatened by a heavenly power.

"I'm not sure," he admitted, looking down at her with eyes that she knew _had_ to belong to something not of this earth. They were mesmerizing. "You could still play an important part in this war."

"You don't know?" she asked, surprised.

He shook his head. "Only my Father does, and he has not revealed your part."

She tightened her arms across her torso unconsciously. "Part? What part? I'm just here to offer a helping hand."

"Before we saved Dean we knew the role of most of those around him. His friends and allies had their roles and places in the upcoming battle. We could not know the exact outcome, because we are not omniscient like our Father, but we knew, mostly, where they stood," he explained.

"And me?" she pressed.

Castiel locked eyes with her again. "You were never part of the plan."

To Be Continued…


	44. Strong Hold

**A/N:** Takes place during "On the Head of a Pin".

_Earlier…_

"It's pretty lucky how all these demons keep turning tail and running when they see you," Dean commented.

"Yeah." Sam agreed. "Lucky."

Dean sighed, pulling his attention from his feet to the burning corpse in front of him. _What did you tell him, Pamela?_

* * *

_Now…_

It rained the entire trip, and Chloe tried her hardest to ignore the cliché as it pounded on the roof of Bobby's car. They were headed for a funeral. She didn't need any more reason to feel depressed.

"_She's dead, Bobby."_

Chloe had never seen Bobby get emotional, at least not anything beyond the looks of worry he shot at the brothers' backs. Ever since she'd met him, he'd been a steady presence in her life, someone to rely on when the war took a turn for the worst. Even now, with the death of a friend resting on his shoulders he looked just as solid and steady.

But she knew enough to recognize the cracks in the façade.

"_Pamela's dead. I told the boys we'd meet them at her funeral."_

A funeral for a deceased psychic with more friends in the hunting business than the real world was different than any funeral Chloe had ever been too. She wanted to ask questions and press the subject, but the tactful part of her mind knew this wasn't the time. She had to set aside the curiosity for later, or maybe never.

She'd get her answers soon, anyway. She and Bobby were close to the meeting place.

"_I'm sorry, Bobby."_

It was war, and there were casualties, but as long as those close to her kept breathing, Chloe could pretend they were safe. It was a false sense of security, but she was willing to live in it for a little longer.

She'd lost one of them before, she didn't want to think about what would happen if she had to live through that again.

Bobby pulled the car off the road, parking it next to the Impala. "We're here."

She glanced over at the older man, trying to think of anything she could say to comfort him. She'd never met Pamela, but she knew the woman had been a big help to them over the past months. Bobby wasn't one to make friends with other hunters or allies easily, but she knew Pamela had managed to make an impact on the older hunter.

"Bobby…" she started, studying his face in the dark car.

He reached across the small space and squeezed her shoulder, keeping his gaze on the field in front of them. "You should go see if those two boys need anything."

* * *

In any war, there were civilian casualties—men and women who had no way of knowing how to protect themselves against the battles they were thrust into.

When he'd first met her, Bobby had pegged Chloe as a civilian. She'd known little to nothing about the supernatural world, and it had shown. She wasn't worried about demons and the apocalypse, because she'd never seen them in action. And no amount of explaining could make a person understand something as big and dangerous as a looming apocalypse. They had to see it to believe it.

Somewhere along the line, Chloe had become a believer, and Bobby cringed to think about just what had convinced her. Dean's resurrection, perhaps?

Whatever it was, it had changed her and she had become a player in the raging war. It bothered him knowing she was willingly risking her life to help him and the Winchesters. She had a life back in Smallville, but she still chose to frequent his house and work with him to find as many Seals as they could.

Though, in many ways, he appreciated the company. She was as good as Sam when it came to research, and she was quickly becoming a capable hunter—and that fact, above all, settled his uncertainty about her joining the battle. At least she would know what she was doing when the time came for her to fight.

Bobby stepped out of his car, watching the woman in question make her way to the brothers. Their backs were to them, but he knew they'd heard his car approach. A fire burned in front of the two men, and Bobby took off his hat, sending out a silent goodbye to his late friend. He didn't have time for regret, but he still couldn't ignore the small pull of guilt. He'd been the one to introduce Pamela to Sam and Dean. So, he'd been the one to seal her fate.

If he believed in such a thing as fate—which he didn't.

But if he did, he would guess Chloe was fated to do more than just keep him company at his home. The Winchesters didn't let many people into their small circle, but they'd let her in. And that had to count for something.

As Bobby mused, Chloe moved to stand between the two brothers, tangling her hand with Dean's and reaching up to grab Sam's arm. It wasn't solid, and Bobby wasn't sure how long it would last, but from where he stood it was easy to see the link that was keeping the two brothers from falling even further away from each other.

Not that he believed in metaphorical symbols—because he didn't.

* * *

Sam stepped away from the small group when his phone rang.

"Ruby?" he answered, eyeing Dean from the distance. After the siren, his brother had given up arguing against Ruby's involvement in their cases, but he still expected the older man to revert back to his old ways.

"Meet me in Cheyenne."

Bobby, Chloe and Dean all stood around the cars, talking in hushed tones, but Sam doubted it was secrets they were sharing. He was the only one with the secrets anymore.

But it was for the best, and he wasn't going to make excuses for what he was doing.

"I've got some leads," Ruby continued, oblivious to Sam's thoughts.

"We'll be there," he answered, continuing to watch the trio. Dean's shoulders were slumped slightly in guilt, and he could see Bobby saying something that was probably meant to be encouraging. When it didn't work, Chloe grabbed his arm and squeezed.

It was hard to see in the dark night, but Sam thought he saw his brother stand a little straighter.

* * *

"You're following Ruby's lead?" Chloe asked, annoyance evident in her tone.

Dean shrugged, knowing it was useless to argue. He didn't want to follow Ruby's lead anymore than Chloe wanted them to, but Sam was insisting and Dean was just too relieved his brother was including him in the plans to care. "She says she has a lead on Lilith."

She sighed, crossing her arms carefully, as if trying to mask her annoyance. "Just be careful."

"I always am," he countered, attempting a small smile. When she frowned in response he mirrored her expression. "What's wrong, Chloe?"

"Sam's reliance on Ruby. It bothers me," she admitted, shooting an anxious glance at the younger Winchester.

Dean followed her gaze, watching Bobby and Sam talk. "She helped him while I was gone."

Chloe nodded carefully, her gaze trailing back to Dean. "So?"

"So, that counts for something," he answered, knowing he wasn't the only one who caught the uncertainty in his tone.

Chloe just frowned.

* * *

"I'm tired of burying friends, Sam."

"Look, we catch fresh trail—"

"And we follow it, I know," Dean finished, leaning against the window. "Like I said, I'm just getting tired."

Sam frowned. "Well get angry."

Dean didn't respond right away, and Sam assumed he was just going to brush him off again. It was what he did now. Sam tried to push him to move on and Dean just closed down, ignoring the world around him.

"What did Ruby do to Chloe?" Dean asked suddenly, throwing Sam for a moment.

He blinked, surprised by the question. "What?"

"Chloe's got a grudge against your demon friend, and I know it goes beyond her belief that Ruby's evil. Something happened between those two, didn't it?"

Sam swallowed and kept his gaze on the road in front of him. "They didn't hit it off, I guess."

"You guess?" Dean repeated, his tone rising slightly. This wasn't exactly what Sam had meant by 'get angry'. But it was something, at least.

"I tried to find Chloe after you…" he trailed off, filling in the blank with a wave of a hand. "But she'd disappeared. No phone call, no email, I even went to her apartment and I couldn't find her anywhere. Around that time, Ruby came back and I started training, but I kept thinking about Chloe, wondering what had happened to her."

He chanced a quick look at his brother, noticing the way Dean sat up and studied him as he spoke. "Then, suddenly, she showed up at my motel."

"She tracked you down?" Dean asked.

"No, Ruby tracked her down, and brought her to visit."

He noticed Dean's fist clench from the corner of his eye. "Brought?" he ground out. "Did she…" he asked, trailing off obviously.

Sam bit his lip, knowing this conversation was a long time coming. "Yes."

"Damn it, Sam—"

"I didn't tell her to," Sam argued, cutting Dean's words short. "Ruby knew I was worried about Chloe, and decided to do something about it."

"By possessing her?" Dean demanded. "A phone call would have worked just fine."

"I know," Sam admitted. "And I told Ruby that, and I also told her Chloe was off limits from now on."

"Well as long as she knows her place now," Dean snarked, glaring at Sam. "Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"I need you to trust Ruby," Sam said.

Dean shook his head, before returning it to its place against the window. "Don't worry Sam, she's still high on my list of allies," he mumbled, sarcasm heavy in his tone.

Sam sighed, returning his gaze to the road. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever."

* * *

Sam answered his phone after three rings, debating if he wanted to talk to her. Chloe had probably called Dean first and received no answer, so she was calling him. Thanks to Ruby, he knew where the angels had taken Dean. He was headed there as fast as the Impala would allow, imagining all the things he was going to say to Castiel and Uriel once he met up with them.

But for now, he had to answer the phone, or Chloe would keep calling.

"Hello?"

"Sam, hey. I was just calling to see if you made it to Cheyenne. It's been a while, and Dean said he'd call me when you arrived."

"Dean's gone," Sam responded, irritation settling heavy in his gut, but he forced himself to keep it in check, knowing it wasn't Chloe's fault Dean had been taken by the angels.

"Was he taken?" Chloe asked, her tone betraying her worry.

"The angels need him for some information."

"Do you know where?" He could hear noise in the background and he guessed she was grabbing her keys as she spoke.

Deciding he had enough of a head start on her, he gave her the location then hung up, increasing his speed. He was some distance ahead of her, but he still wanted to make sure he found Dean and stopped Alistair before Chloe showed up. He didn't need any more distractions.

He was strong enough now to get the angels their information, and he was going to prove it.

* * *

"He's stable," Sam said, glancing over her shoulder as if he could see Dean's room down the hall.

Chloe shook her head, trying to wrap her mind around what had happened. "Alistair's dead?" she asked, instead of focusing on the fact that Dean was lying in a hospital bed, with a tube down his throat.

"Yes."

"Your dong?" She had already guessed the answer, but she wanted to hear him tell her (or lie to her). She knew he was getting more powerful. She'd asked him to let her help, but so far he'd kept her in the dark about his growing powers. The only things she knew she'd learned from Dean.

Sam nodded. "I got the answers the angels wanted. And now he can't hurt Dean anymore."

"I don't think that's going to stop his pain," Chloe said, though, she was sure Sam knew that. "I can't believe the angels asked that of him."

Sam frowned, his eyes darkening with memory. "They had no right. He's changed from his time in Hell, and they just keep making it worse."

"He'll be okay."

"How do you know?" Sam asked somewhat bitterly.

Chloe bit her lip, knowing she had no definite answer. The truth was, she didn't know. She could only hope Dean would be okay, because she didn't want to imagine the alternative. "He needs to be okay," she amended, feeling her eyes water slightly. Dean was broken and she didn't know how to fix him.

Sam's expression softened as he watched her, and she felt embarrassed by her tears. "He'll be okay," he repeated, pulling her into a firm hug.

She held him just a tightly, wishing it was that simple, that a hug could fix all the problems they'd faced and were sure to face in the future.

Sam pressed his mouth against her hair, his words echoing through her head before they reached her ears. "I promise."

* * *

"I won't let you hurt him again."

Castiel frowned at the woman in front of him. He hadn't come to see her, he'd come to apologize to Sam and Dean. He thought about simply leaving—disappearing, as Dean had called it—and coming back later. He and Dean had already spoken of the hunter's role with the Seals, apologies could wait for later.

But Chloe reached out and grabbed his host's arm, squeezing in what he assumed was annoyance. "You have to heal him."

"I did," Castiel replied, looking down at her hand then back at her eyes. There were tears there, but she was frowning as if trying to stay strong. He recognized the expression as one Dean and Sam wore often. The humans were allowed emotions, but they refused to give into them.

"Then why is he still lying in a hospital bed?" she demanded.

"I did all I could." He reached down and pulled her hand from his host's arm, squeezing it briefly before letting it fall. "He's healthier. He'll be fine."

She blinked and looked behind her at Dean's room, before returning her gaze to him. "You told me to take care of him. And I can't do that if you keep breaking him."

"No," Castiel corrected. "I told you to take care of _them_. Dean is lying in a hospital bed, but Sam is no better off."

"You're the angel," she said. "You're the one with miracles on your side. We're just humans. Try to remember that."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and stepped into Dean's room. Castiel stood in front of the window, watching the small blonde move purposely to Dean's side. She sat down on the edge of his bed and pulled his hand into her lap, holding it wordlessly. On the other side, Sam stood, watching both of them with a protective frown.

Dean had said he wasn't strong enough for what fate had in store for him, but he couldn't see what Castiel was seeing.

It would be his job to end the apocalypse, but he wouldn't be doing it alone.

To Be Continued…

* * *


	45. Altered Perspective

**A/N:** Takes place during "Hex" and at the end of "It's a Terrible Life"

* * *

_Now…_

Chloe stood out on the balcony, attempting to ignore the party going on inside. It was nice of Oliver to throw her birthday party, but she just wasn't in the mood. Dean had been released from the hospital only days earlier, and he and Sam had disappeared shortly after without so much as a hint of their destination.

So far she was doing a terrible job of taking care of the Winchesters. Castiel would be so proud—

A present landed in front of her and she smiled at the name on the tag. "Clark, you shouldn't have," she mused, turning to face her friend.

Oliver stood in his place, offering her an apologetic smile. "Clark's sorry he couldn't make it. He and Bart are off—"

"Dealing with a crisis in Keystone," she finished. "I know."

Oliver nodded. "Well, come on, let's see what you got," he said, gesturing towards the package.

Chloe opened it and laughed at the book inside. _Tales of the Weird and Unexplained_. If that wasn't a description of her own life she didn't know what was. Less than two years earlier, she would have associated the title with all things extraterrestrial. Now, the book held a supernatural meaning, too. Changelings, witches, and demons definitely fell under the _Weird and Unexplained _category.

"You okay?" Oliver asked.

She looked over at him, realizing her thoughts had wandered past demons and on to their hunters. She didn't like being out of contact with the brothers anymore—that was usually when they got into trouble.

And it would have been nice to have them around for her birthday.

"Yeah, I'm good," she said, smiling tightly. He'd see through it, but knowing Oliver, he wouldn't push the issue.

"Good. In that case, why don't we get you to your party. All your fans are waiting."

Chloe rolled her eyes, but let him lead her inside. "And by fans you mean _your_ friends?"

"It's not my fault you've decided to abandon Metropolis for parts unknown. I was surprised you even showed up tonight, I thought you'd be off with your new friends."

She paused, startled. "New friends?"

"You disappear for days on end, frequently I might add, and you don't think people get suspicious?" Oliver said, instead of answering. "You seem to forget that people care about you."

She smirked slightly, knowing the conversation was quickly veering into uncomfortable territory for Oliver. He worried about her well-being, but he didn't want to actually talk about that fact. "You aren't going to lecture me, are you?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm not your keeper."

"Yeah," she agreed with a small laugh. Across the room, Lois stood talking with people she'd probably met only minutes before. Her cousin had the ability to make friends (or enemies) quickly.

"You're happy with what you're doing, right?" Oliver asked.

Chloe pulled her gaze from her cousin, back to the man in front of her. "Yeah, I'm happy," she said, unable to make her tone match her words.

"I can see that," he teased.

She just shrugged, knowing better than to lay her problems on his shoulders. "It's just been a little rough lately. My friends' lives can be a bit much at times." She gestured to Lois. "Sometimes I kinda miss the relative normalcy of the Planet."

"You were never meant for a normal life, Chloe," Oliver stated, just as Lois breezed up, a cupcake in her hand and an apology on her lips.

* * *

"Make a wish."

Chloe glanced over the magician's shoulder to her cousin, then back at the cupcake in her hand. She didn't believe in wishes, but if she did—

* * *

She shuffled out of bed, heading towards her bathroom. It was still early, but she decided she should get a head start on tracking down Sam and Dean.

As she passed her mirror she froze, noticing something very wrong with her reflection.

"Oh my god, I'm Lois."

* * *

"Pick up, pick up," Chloe muttered as she paced the distance of her small apartment. _This is Sam_— She cursed and hung up. Sam and Dean were still MIA and Bobby was currently in the middle of a hunt with no cell-service. So that just left her, in Lois's body (_no, not Lois's body, a clone of Lois's body_).

Great.

Giving her changed reflection one last glance, she decided she'd have to figure this out on her own. Or mostly on her own. She needed to get to the Planet and see if Clark had any ideas.

Luckily, her cousin still lived with her so she wouldn't have to try and fit her new, taller body into her smaller clothes. _Small miracles_, she thought wryly.

* * *

"Why aren't you in Mexico?"

Chloe swallowed, looking up at Clark. How was she going to explain this one? "Here's the thing, I uh, well, something happened last night—"

"Right, can this wait until after your post-lunch, pre-dinner, after-coffee snack break?" Clark asked, cutting her off. "Can't imagine you having any more to say after last night."

"Last night?"

"You called me five times from the airport and once from the airplane," Clark explained.

Chloe frowned. What had happened to working with Bart? "You had time to answer six phone calls, but couldn't call me—_Chloe_ on her birthday?" she demanded, falling into the role of Lois for a moment.

"Chloe knows sometimes I get hung up on the…farm," Clark said, using his _covering_ voice, Chloe recognized from her years before she knew his secret.

"Farm, right," Chloe snarked.

"What's wrong, Lois?" Clark asked, looking surprised by her attitude.

_I'm Chloe_, she thought, knowing she should just tell him. It might take him a while to believe, but she was pretty sure she could convince him. But something stopped her. She wasn't ready to expose her identity, yet.

"Hey, we've got a story," Clark said, without waiting for her response. "Police stand-off Main and Fifth."

Chloe hesitated, looking down at Lois's desk and everything that could have been hers if her career hadn't been cut short so quickly.

"Lois?" Clark pressed.

She blinked, looking up at the man who she used to spend years working side-by-side with on the _Torch_. He was now working side-by-side with her cousin. And she was out saving the world from an apocalypse that was probably going to come anyway, considering the fact that the men she was supposed to be working with kept disappearing on her. Setting her shoulders, she marched past Clark and towards the stairs. "Get a move on, Smallville," she called over her shoulder, earning a small laugh.

* * *

The man on the fire-escape was screaming in Latin, and throwing anything he could at the cops below. Chloe frowned, listening as he spoke. It was a little jumbled, and she'd never heard it screamed through a megaphone, but she caught the words as he repeated them. "Woman. Magic. Cursed tongue. Book brings death," she translated, confused by the meaning.

"Since when do you speak Latin?" Clark asked.

Chloe shrugged, knowing her cousin would never have had a reason to learn the ancient language. She, on the other hand, used the language on a fairly regular basis now. The man wasn't exactly speaking an exorcism, but then, she wasn't one to learn things half-way. Latin wasn't just good for exorcising demons. Sometimes, ancient texts were the only clue hunters had to breaking a spell, or stopping an old evil. Bobby had said learning Latin would be useful in more ways than one.

"Zatanna," the man cried, cutting off any reply Chloe might have had. She knew that name. It was the name of the magician from her birthday party.

"Clark," she said suddenly, pulling him to the side. "I bet it was that same witchy-woman who did this to me. Now, I know where she's performing tonight, maybe you can superspeed over this antique shop and dust of any leads."

"Superspeed?" Clark repeated, looking worried. "We didn't even bring a car."

"What?" Chloe frowned, then realized her mistake. "It's okay, I'm Chloe." Clark just stared at her. "Stood her up at formal-Chloe. Planted one on you because Zod was ending the world-Chloe. Krypton. Jor-el. Fortress. Brainiac-Chloe."

Clark blinked. "Chloe?"

"Bingo. And just like that raving wardrobe malfunction over there, some magician showed up at my birthday party last night, in fishnets, and hexed me. But you'd know that if you hadn't skipped it to answer voice-mails from Lois." She frowned. "Not that I'm dwelling."

* * *

Chloe mentally cursed when she saw the sky above the Daily Planet building light up with what could only be Zatanna's magic. She shot Clark a look, knowing she shouldn't ask him what she was about to. Magic was nasty stuff, and Clark wasn't any more immune to its effects than her, but they didn't have another choice. "Clark, you're the only person who can get up there and put an end to this right now," she said.

He shook his head, still under Zatanna's earlier hex. He believed he was nothing more than a regular reporter, no superpowers. "Look, I know what you're going to say, but—"

"No, Clark, there are no 'buts' with you," she argued. "Now super lead up there and stop her."

Clark hesitated, staring up at the roof of the Daily Planet. "I don't know," he started.

Chloe sighed, cutting him off with a hand on his arm. "Look, Clark, I know it's hard to believe, but you were meant for so much more than sitting behind a desk and reporting on stories. Your life as a hero and a reporter is hard sometimes, but I know you can do it. You weren't meant for a normal life as a reporter," she declared.

"_You were never meant for a normal life, Chloe." _

She smiled, remembering Oliver's words, suddenly they had much more meaning. She felt something shift, like it had the moment she'd blown out the candle on her cupcake. A light flashed, around her, or in her she wasn't sure, and a moment later she was looking up at Clark from her shorter, blonder body.

* * *

Zatanna offered Oliver a small smile, stepping forward as she spoke. "Just know, there are far more dangerous people out there in the world than me. People with much greater control over the genuinely nastier magics than I do."

Oliver nodded, deciding he didn't want specifics at the moment. He knew the world was a scary place, but he was too busy taking down the non-magical bad guys, at the moment, to worry about anyone else.

"So, if you ever run into my kind of mischief again," Zatanna continued, pulling out a playing card, "call me. And wherever I am, this time, I'm on your side."

_His side. _It was disturbing to think that when it came to magic there could be people _not_ on his side. People who would use their "nastier magics" to take on heroes. But again, he didn't have time to worry about magic and mischief. He had criminals with guns to deal with.

Maybe later, though.

* * *

Chloe looked up when Oliver walked into Isis. "Ready?" he asked.

"Ready as you are," she answered, moving towards the computer room.

"Chloe," Oliver said, stopping her mid-stride. "This will mean leaving your old life as a reporter behind. You sure you want to say goodbye to that forever?"

Chloe laughed softly, smiling at his statement. "It won't be forever."

He frowned. "This isn't something you can just join lightly and then leave whenever the reporter-bug strikes again."

She nodded, moving to grab hers and Oliver's earpieces. "I never do anything lightly," she said by way of answering. "But for now, my elusive friends need me." She smiled as she opened up the computer room, listening to the computer announce the status of their teammates. "Much like a small group of superheroes."

Oliver smiled in understanding, before slipping his earpiece in. "Arrow, online."

Chloe put her own earpiece in. "Watchtower is officially online."

* * *

_Later…_

Dean silently cursed angels the entire way to the parking garage. Why couldn't they just come out and say what they wanted? Why did they have to play games with him? Uriel was dead, but the rest of them were still dicks.

As he reached the garage, Sam joined him, raising his eyebrows in a silent greeting. _You okay?_

Dean set his face, giving him a brief nod. _Fine._

Together, they moved through the garage. He remembered where he'd parked the Prius, but he had no clue what the angels had done with the Impala. _If they screwed with my car._

"It's about time you figured it out."

Dean paused, recognizing the voice. He turned and spotted Chloe across a row of cars. She was seated on the hood of a very familiar looking car, and he hurried across to meet her. "You were in on this?" he demanded, running a hand over the hood of the Impala.

Chloe shook her head, leaning back against the windshield, her arms crossed in a relaxed posture. He wondered how long she'd been there, waiting. "No. But I found you a few days ago and tried to come see you. Castiel stopped me. He said you two had to figure this out on your own. Or more specifically, _you_ did," she corrected, gesturing to him with a nod of her head.

She held out a hand, and Dean grasped it, helping her from the hood. "So you two done playing in the business world?"

Sam nodded, plucking at his polo shirt. "I hope so."

"Good." She smiled up at them, her eyes bright with teasing. "Because you owe me."

"Owe you?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "You two missed my birthday."

To Be Continued…


	46. Unwritten Influence

**A/N:** Takes place during "The Monster At the End of This Book"

* * *

Before…

"So I think I found our corpse," Dean announced. "It was a woman named Chloe Sullivan."

* * *

"Look, I don't expect you guys to trust me, but I need answers, and I know you are my best bet at getting them," Chloe admitted

"You do remember that we're dangerous criminals, right?" Dean snarked.

* * *

"Those dark clouds were demons," Sam explained.

"You mean like real, hell-raising, supernatural beings?" Chloe asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, and that's putting it lightly."

* * *

"She messed up our investigation!" Dean slammed his hand against his steering wheel as he drove back to the hotel.

"That's not why you're mad," Sam stated.

"Yeah? Then why am I mad Sam?"

"Because Chloe almost got hurt."

* * *

Chloe smiled to herself as the information appeared on her computer screen. _Gotcha._ After the bad lead a few days prior, Chloe had spent most of her time trying to correctly track down Bela. She knew the boys didn't blame her for the bad lead, but after everything that had happened she felt required to get them the information they needed.

She picked up her phone, dialing Dean's number by heart.

The hunter picked up after two rings. "Hello?"

"Dean, it's Chloe. I think I've found her."

"Yeah? Where?"

* * *

"He's right, you know."

Chloe looked surprised, but didn't say anything.

"The world needs people like you just as much as it needs us. We're fighting the same fight just on different fronts." Dean squeezed her shoulders, trying to get his words to sink in. It bothered him how easily she dismissed herself. In a scary way, it reminded him of himself. He didn't want to see her turn into him.

"You are important."

* * *

"Before we saved Dean we knew the role of most of those around him. His friends and allies had their roles and places in the upcoming battle. We could not know the exact outcome, because we are not omniscient like our Father, but we knew, mostly, where they stood," he explained.

"And me?" Chloe pressed.

Castiel locked eyes with her again. "You were never part of the plan."

* * *

_Now…_

"You're afraid of flying?" Chloe asked, smirking at Dean over the cover of the book she was browsing.

Dean frowned at her from his place on his bed. "Sam's afraid of clowns," he argued.

"So?" Sam asked, adding his opinion without looking up from the laptop he was working at.

Chloe laughed, shifting to find a better position on Sam's lumpy mattress. "I might have to invest in my own copy of the series. It's the ultimate Winchester insider."

"How 'bout you just ask if you've got any questions about us?" Dean countered, biting back a smile at her laughter. He hadn't heard her laugh since before he'd landed in the hospital. She still smiled and joked with them, but the worry had never completely left her eyes.

He figured that was the reason she was still with them and not back at Bobby's place. After returning from their three-week run in the business world, Chloe had stuck close by, and he couldn't come up with a good reason to argue with her. He would have preferred her in the safety of Bobby's home, but even at that, he couldn't tell her to leave. He liked having her around.

And it wasn't as if she shadowed him and Sam, constantly. She drove her own car, got her own room, and even worked different angles of a case on her own. A small part of him acknowledged the fact that she was slowly acclimating herself to their inner circle, increasing the time spent with them little-by-little until one day she would be around just as much as Sam.

And he wasn't so sure that was a bad thing.

"This is more fun," Chloe argued, setting one book aside and picking up another, _Jus In Bello_.

Dean just shook his head, returning to his own book.

* * *

"Everything is in here, I mean _everything_. From the racist truck to me…" Dean trailed off, looking over at Chloe. "It's just freaky."

Chloe's mouth twitched, as she met his gaze. "Is that the one where you're full-frontal?"

"You read that?"

She shrugged. "I might have skimmed it."

Dean frowned then tossed his book aside. "How does the guy know all this stuff?"

"Psychic?" Sam guessed, his attention still focused on his laptop.

Chloe made a thoughtful sound, before flipping backwards in her book. Dean watched her frown. "What's up?" he asked.

"Bobby was in some of the books, right?" she asked, instead of answering.

"Yeah."

"And your dad, and even Ruby."

"Yeah, the guy knows every detail. What's your point?" Dean pressed, though he had a suspicion he knew where her thought process was going.

Chloe continued to frown as she looked up and glanced between the brothers. "Where am I?"

Dean matched her frown, picking up a book he knew she should have been in. "You aren't anywhere?" he asked, cracking it open, as if her name would appear at will.

"No. I don't even warrant an inner thought," Chloe said. She grabbed the book, _Jus In Bello,_ from his hands and flipped to the beginning of the book. "This book starts out with you two storming Bela's hotel room, then getting arrested. It never mentions who your source was, or how you knew Bela was in that hotel. Then after," she flipped to the end of the book, "there's nothing. You two are heading to Bobby's and the book ends. I've been omitted from the story."

"Maybe he just doesn't know about you," Sam suggested.

"Maybe I'm just not important enough," Chloe tried, with a small shrug.

Dean just shot her a look.

She smiled. "Yeah, yeah."

* * *

Chuck sighed, realization dawning on his face. "I wrote myself into it. I wrote myself, at my house, confronted by my characters."

Sam shared a look with Dean, still at a loss for exactly what was going on. He was guessing Chuck was a psychic, having visions about their lives for some strange reason, but something about that scenario didn't sit well with him.

"Then what happened?" he asked, looking at the piles of papers scattered around Chuck's computer.

Before the author could reply, there was a loud knock at the front door, followed by someone walking in without invitation.

"Comic store's clean," Chloe announced, meeting them in the kitchen. "It's not haunted." She crossed her arms and shrugged. "I double checked. Even broke in with an EMF."

Sam nodded, satisfied. After learning about the _Supernatural_ books, he and Dean had more-or-less abandoned their original hunt, deciding the books were more important. Chloe, though, had decided it was her job to go check it out while the brothers tracked down Carver Edlund. Sam was just glad they hadn't bailed on a real hunt.

"Who are you?" Chuck demanded, raising an eyebrow at Chloe. "Are you a hunter?"

"You didn't see her coming?" Dean asked, resting a hand on Chloe's shoulder. "Your vision didn't show her?"

Chuck shook his head. "My story stopped after I told my characters what I just told you, before she showed up. Then it doesn't continue again until you two are at the laundromat, talking about me.

"So, your story just cut me out?" Chloe asked, looking slightly upset by this information. Sam couldn't really blame her—though, he really wanted to tell her she was lucky some guy didn't have her entire life written down. But being cut out of something that she obviously had a part in was probably difficult. He still couldn't figure out why Chuck knew everything about them, but didn't know a thing about Chloe.

"Wait, are you Jo?" Chuck asked suddenly, looking surprised by the idea.

"What? No," Dean stated, his grip on Chloe's shoulder tightening slightly. "This is Chloe Sullivan. She's been working with us for more than a year now."

"Chloe Sullivan?" Chuck shook his head. "I've never heard of her."

Chloe shot Dean a look that Sam assumed meant something like 'told you I'm not important'. Dean just shook his head.

"How do you explain our source on Bela? Or our source for the vampires in _Fresh Blood_?" Sam asked, remembering the parts Chloe had been omitted from.

"Your source?" Chuck asked. "It wasn't important to the story. All that mattered was the fact that you two were there. The readers didn't need to know who you got information from. And besides, _I_ didn't know who you got your information from, so I didn't write it."

Sam sighed, looking down at Chloe apologetically before returning his gaze to Chuck. "Can we have your latest writing?"

Chuck nodded, handing over the documents. "I'm not psychic," he reiterated.

Dean shrugged, moving to leave. "Keep telling yourself that."

* * *

"'_Sam turned is back on Dean, his face brooding and pensive_,'" Dean read, his tone light and teasing. Sam wanted to enjoy his brother's teasing, but he couldn't get past the question of _how_ Chuck knew so much—well everything but Chloe's role.

"I mean, I don't know how he's doing it, but this guy is doing it," Dean continued. "I can't see your face, but those are definitely your brooding and pensive shoulders."

Sam sighed at Dean's teasing. _My brother's a dick._

"You just thought I was a dick," Dean stated, reading from the pages again.

Sam turned, frowning thoughtfully. "Guy's good."

* * *

Chloe sat down across from Chuck "I'm-not-psychic" Shirley. He was watching her carefully, looking at her with more suspicion than he had shown Sam and Dean. She figured it made sense, in a way. Sam and Dean he knew. He'd written a series on their lives. But her? He had never heard of her. Of the three of them, she was most likely the fraud.

"Ruby possessed me last summer," she said, unsure how to start. She wasn't sure what she wanted to talk to him about exactly. She just knew she wanted to talk. Hopefully he'd have the answers.

Chuck swallowed. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"I know," Chloe responded. "But she did. And then Sam and I had a long fight about his new abilities and allies. Bet that never made it into your books, did it?"

"No, I didn't go over much from that summer. There wasn't much to tell." He winced at his words and offered her a tight smile. "Sorry."

She brushed off his comment with a wave of her hand. "I've been getting that a lot lately."

"So how long have you been working with them?"

"I met them last year, sometime soon after Dean made the deal, I think. We didn't really trust each other much then, but now," she trailed off with a shrug.

Chuck frowned thoughtfully. "'But now' what?"

"Well, if it's not in your books, it's not important," she teased. It had bothered her at first, knowing she wasn't a part of the Winchesters novelized life, but now she knew it didn't matter. Not really. She was a part of their real life.

Besides, if the_ angels_ didn't know what to do with her, why should an author?

"What else have you helped them with?" Chuck asked, settling back in his seat. He looked generally curious. It was oddly comforting.

Chloe paused, trying to remember some key moments. "Do you remember Samhein?"

"Yeah."

"I was the one who led them to that case."

"Well that explains that one, too. I guess next time the guys end up on a hunt, I can assume you led them there."

"Maybe. Yeah."

Chuck leaned forward suddenly, looking serious. "I'm sorry you aren't in my books."

Chloe smirked. "I'm not. My life's crazy enough without it ending up between the cover of your novels. Besides, I know what I've done, that's enough."

* * *

"Hey guys, 'bout done?"

Dean looked back at Chloe as she entered the laundromat and smiled. "Why, volunteering to help?"

"I did your laundry once, I'm doing it again," she teased, resting a hand on his arm when she reached his side. "My washer will never be the same after a load of Winchester dirt."

Dean smirked, and gestured to his brother who was packing their clean clothes back into their bags. "All done."

"Good." Chloe's hand slid down his arm and grasped his hand. "Let's get coffee," she suggested, pulling him off the table and onto his feet.

He smiled down at the blonde, enjoying the smile she was returning. Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked outside, leaving the brothers to follow her.

Dean glanced down at Chuck's story in his hands. "'_As Sam finished packing their clean clothes into their duffels, Dean glanced outside and realized he would love a cup of coffee_.'" He chuckled. "Alright, let's go."

* * *

Sam followed Chloe and Dean as they walked into Chuck's living room. The writer had contacted them earlier, telling them he had a new chapter they had to know about.

"You aren't supposed to be here," Chuck said, pointing to Chloe.

The small blonde shrugged. "I know. Hasn't stopped me before."

Chuck shook his head. "No, just those two were supposed to show up."

Chloe sighed. "Just tell them what they need to know, Chuck. I promise I won't say a word."

The author looked between the trio before nodding and shuffling the papers in his hands. He moved into the living room, where the three of them had already stationed themselves, Chloe standing in the corner, out of the way.

Sam watched Chuck fidget for another moment before speaking. "So, you wrote another chapter?"

"This was all so much easier before you were real," Chuck admitted.

"We can take it, just spit it out."

"You especially are not going to like this," Chuck said to Dean.

"I didn't like Hell," Dean countered.

"It's Lilith," Chuck admitted. "She's coming for Sam."

* * *

"Sam listen, we'll get Lilith, but you two need to both be in on this, and if Dean's not on board," Chloe argued, standing between the two men as they glared at each other, and tried hard to not fight. There hadn't been any heated words, but if the two of them held their tongue any longer she knew someone was going to snap.

"Just stay here, Sam, please," Dean asked, gesturing to the motel room he had already Lilith proofed with his hex bags.

"What are you going to do?"

"Well the pages say I spend all day riding around in the Impala, so I'm going to go park her," Dean answered, gesturing outside to his car.

Chloe stepped forward, holding out her hand. "I'll park her. You stay here."

Dean looked from her hand to her face, then shook his head. "No way."

"What? Don't trust my driving?" she teased.

"The pages also say the rear window gets broken out and I need to use a tarp to cover it. You really don't want to be the reason that happens."

"Who says it'll me?" Chloe argued.

"Who says it won't be?" Dean countered.

Chloe just sighed and shoved her hand closer to his face. "Fine, you ride with me. But if this is opposite day, you don't need to be behind the wheel."

Dean glared, but grudgingly got his keys out and handed them to her. "If you—"

"Don't finish that," she cut off.

* * *

"It'll be fine, Dean. Let's go," Chloe assured, grabbing his arm and leading him away from his car. She still didn't quite understand why they had to park it out of the motel lot, but she wasn't about to question his logic. Not about something that trivial.

"Fine, I'm coming." He stepped beside her and began walking away, only to pause moments later, turning to look back at his car. Chloe followed his gaze, glaring at the men attempting to break into the Impala. "Hey," Dean snapped, hurrying across the street.

Before Chloe could blink, she heard a car horn then watched as Dean bounced off the hood of a minivan and landed in the middle of the road.

"Dean!"

* * *

Chloe pounded on the motel door, glaring as if she could see through it. _What I wouldn't give to have Clark's powers._ The pink door wouldn't budge. "Sam! Open up!" she yelled, already guessing he wouldn't respond.

She moved to the window and looked through. Sam stood on the other side, holding a hex bag in his hand and a lighter in the other. "Don't you dare, Sam," she muttered, watching him light the bag on fire.

"Hurry up, Dean," she urged as Sam dropped the bag into a trashcan then lit another one up. The older Winchester was at Chuck's house, confronting the author about what had happened with the minivan. Dean wanted answers, and he was going to get them.

Meanwhile, Chloe was supposed to be talking to Sam. Only she couldn't get inside.

"He can't hear you."

Chloe frowned, recognizing the voice, before turning. "Why? Am I not supposed to interfere?"

Castiel didn't nod, but the answer was evident in his eyes. "What is written cannot be unwritten."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You cannot interfere with the prophecy."

Chloe blanched. "Prophecy? Chuck's a prophet now?" She shook her head. "Well that's a new one." She gestured towards the motel, knowing now that Sam couldn't see her, even though she was standing outside the window. "So, I'm just supposed to sit here and wait while Sam gets it on with a demon? The same demon that will slaughter him alive as soon as she's through with him."

Castiel stepped closer, looking her straight in the eyes. "Chuck saw Sam give in to Lilith, he did not see the end result. We cannot be sure what will happen in there."

"So, what am I supposed to do?"

"Trust them."

* * *

Dean looked over at his brother in the passenger seat, trying to ignore the menace in his voice. Sam was talking about killing a demon—killing Lilith. He should be happy, or at least on board to help him. But at the moment, Dean was just scared.

He returned his gaze to the street, trying to pull his thoughts from the worry they were wallowing in. "So, we've got our very own prophet," he mused, hoping it would be enough to lighten the mood.

He saw Sam shrug from the corner of his eye. "Yeah, I guess." The younger Winchester shifted, making a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat, and Dean almost smiled. Sam's thoughts had been pulled from Lilith, and onto Chuck. "Why do you think Chloe isn't in the books?" he asked, glancing at the rearview mirror. Chloe was in her car, following them to their next destination.

Wherever that happened to be.

Dean shook his head. "No clue. But I do know one thing, if Chloe's not in any prophecy we've got an advantage on this destiny-thing."

"How's that?"

"Chloe's unknown." He raised an eyebrow at Sam. "She's our wild-card."

* * *

_The brothers drove in silence, sorting their thoughts on the days events. They weren't any closer to stopping the apocalypse, but they now knew their enemy was weakening. Dean glanced in the rearview mirror before looking over at his brother, sharing a meaningful look. _

_He pressed his foot down on the pedal, increasing his speed and putting as much distance as he could between them and the town._

_And behind them, their destiny kept pace._

To Be Continued…


	47. Interrupted Moments

_Before…_

Chloe bit her lip, a smile creeping onto her face before she could stop it. "He kissed me," she stated, laughing slightly at her words.

"Who?"

"Dean."

Clark's eyebrows rose comically, and he looked back towards the house as if he could see Dean. _He probably can_, she mused. "Dean? Really?"

Chloe frowned. "What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing," he said quickly, holding up his hands in defense. "I'm just worried about you, it's my job as your friend, remember. And after your broken engagement to Jimmy I don't want you settling, again."

"Dean wouldn't be settling," she argued. "Besides, nothing's going to happen. He just kissed me. That's it."

Clark looked at her knowingly. "Trust me, if Dean's smart that won't be it."

* * *

"He'll be okay."

"How do you know?" Sam asked somewhat bitterly.

Chloe bit her lip, knowing she had no definite answer. The truth was, she didn't know. She could only hope Dean would be okay, because she didn't want to imagine the alternative. "He needs to be okay," she amended, feeling her eyes water slightly. Dean was broken and she didn't know how to fix him.

Sam's expression softened as he watched her, and she felt embarrassed by her tears. "He'll be okay," he repeated, pulling her into a firm hug.

* * *

"This isn't something you can just join lightly and then leave whenever the reporter-bug strikes again."

She nodded, moving to grab hers and Oliver's earpieces. "I never do anything lightly," she said by way of answering. "But for now, my elusive friends need me." She smiled as she opened up the computer room, listening to the computer announce the status of their teammates. "Much like a small group of superheroes."

Oliver smiled in understanding, before slipping his earpiece in. "Arrow, online."

Chloe put her own earpiece in. "Watchtower is officially online."

* * *

_Now…_

It was still early, but Chloe knew the brothers were probably up and moving around. And if they weren't she had coffee as incentive to do so. She tucked that day's newspaper under her arm and knocked, listening to movement on the other side of the lime green door.

"Hey Chlo'," Sam greeted, stepping back to let her in.

She noted Dean's absence when she stepped inside, then heard the shower running. "I don't know what you two were planning for today, but I think I've got a case," she announced, while pulling a styrafoam cup from her tray and offering it to the man in front of her. "And refreshments."

Sam took the coffee gratefully. "What's the case?"

"A woman was found murdered in a nearby inn. Locked room. All the guests and owners have solid alibis," Chloe explained, offering him the newspaper as she spoke. "I did some digging and this wasn't the first death. There were two more, over the last forty-plus years. Both of them women, both of them in locked rooms, and the killer was never found."

"And the inn's still running?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

Chloe shrugged. "It's changed hands many times over the years, each time earning a new name and coat of paint. Most people probably figure that'll clean up any of its history."

"Well—" Sam was cut off as the bathroom door opened and a cloud of steam escaped, followed by Dean.

Chloe blinked, watching the older Winchester move into the room in nothing but a pair of jeans. It had been over a month since he'd kissed her by the trunk of the Impala—momentarily pushing their relationship in a different direction—yet, she could still remember what it had felt like to run her hands between his jacket and shirt, saving his figure to memory.

But that was nothing compared to what she was staring at.

And yeah, she was staring.

"Did I miss something?" Dean asked, giving her a knowing smirk.

She blinked again, and snapped back to attention. "I've got a case," she admitted lamely. She grabbed another cup and thrust it towards him. "And coffee."

"Thanks," Dean said, reaching to grab the offered drink. As he moved, she caught sight of the scar on his left deltoid.

She stepped closer and grabbed his arm at the elbow, examining the scar. "This is from Castiel?" she asked, letting her hand hover over the raised skin. She turned her attention from the old wound and looked over at Dean. "From Hell?" she clarified.

"Side-effect of soul-saving, I guess," Dean said.

Chloe nodded and released his arm, taking his coffee as he pulled a shirt off his bed and slid it over his head, effectively covering the scar. "I guess."

* * *

Dean opened the door with a dramatic flourish, gesturing for Chloe to step in first. "Home _suite_ home," he teased, watching her roll her eyes as she passed him.

"I still don't understand why we have to share. We've got enough salt to cover two rooms. Besides, if you were that worried we could have just stayed in another motel in town," Chloe stated, tossing her duffel on the nearest bed then turning to frown at him.

Sam walked in behind her, tossing his bag next to hers. "Dean skip out on staying in a haunted house? Never."

"And," Dean added, "if you were so against sharing, you should have spoken up downstairs when we were checking in."

"How could I?" Chloe demanded, though her eyes were light, contradicting her tone. "That lady had us pegged as a couple the moment we walked in. If I'd told her I wanted a separate room she would have started asking questions about you two." She smirked. "I was doing you a favor by saving your reputation."

"Don't do me any favors, lady," Dean shot back. "If you want your own room, my pride can take it."

Chloe stepped closer, biting back a smile. "Doubt it."

He smiled and started to respond when Sam coughed.

"I'm going to go talk to the owner. Why don't you two search the place for ghosts." Sam frowned. "And a private room."

Dean shrugged at his brother's not-so-subtle hint. "Play nice, Sam," he said, waving his brother from the room.

Sam paused at the doorway, fixing him with a knowing look. "You too."

* * *

"You aren't with the press, are you?" Mrs. Reynolds asked, giving Sam a quizzical eye.

Sam shook his head. "No, just overly curious." He held up his hands. "If you don't want to talk about it, though," he trailed off, knowing Mrs. Reynolds _wanted_ to talk.

She shook her head and set a platter of cookies in front of him. She was older, probably late fifties. After her husband had died, she'd taken over the inn, priding herself on handling all the problems on her own.

Until now.

"It was terrifying," Mrs. Reynolds stated. "That poor woman…"

* * *

"I think I'd kill people too, if I was stuck staring at this for eternity," Dean stated, gesturing to the colorful, cat wallpaper lining the wall next to him.

"I don't think that's why this spirit's out for blood," Chloe argued unnecessarily. Dean was just making conversation. It was what he did when he was bored—that or sing Metallica and she really didn't want to hear that.

She stopped and opened the closet next to her, sweeping the area with her EMF meter. She kept expecting to find a hidden passage behind one of the doors, but so far, they'd all been filled with extra sheets and towels. The inn was stocked with enough linens to last until after the apocalypse.

"Hey Chloe, look at this," Dean called. Chloe stuck her head out of the closet. The hallway was deserted save for another open door.

"What is it?" she asked, moving to the open doorway.

Instead of answering, Dean reached out and pulled her inside, smiling when she let out a surprised yelp. "It's a private room," he said once she was settled in front of him.

Chloe smiled back, slipping her EMF meter into her pocket. "Sam would be so proud," she said.

"Who cares what Sam thinks," he said lightly. "What do you think?"

She shrugged lightly. "I thought we were working."

"We will."

Chloe bit her lip, nodding slowly. "Okay."

"Okay." He stepped forward and she grabbed his arm, knowing his next move before he made it. It had only happened once before, but it wasn't something she was going to forget anytime soon—

Her cell went off before they got to the good part, and Chloe cursed her luck, letting out an annoyed groan as she fished her phone from her pocket. "Sorry," she whispered, watching his shoulders slump.

He shook his head and leaned forward, stealing a quick kiss (_their second kiss, not that she was counting_). "I'll be…" he trailed off, gesturing to the hallway with his EMF meter. "Find me."

Chloe nodded and answered her phone on the third ring. "This better be important, Ollie."

* * *

Sam hesitated as he walked into the room. He wasn't sure what he was going to find, if Chloe and Dean had never left—

"Watchtower out."

He frowned and moved to Chloe's half of the suite. "Chloe?"

"How'd the interview go?" she asked, pulling a Bluetooth from her ear.

"Fine." He gestured to the computer in front of her. "What's going on?"

"My second job," she answered, closing the laptop and shoving it into her bag. "I haven't been home in a while, so my job came to me."

"You've got two jobs?" Dean asked, walking into the room. He moved to stand beside Sam, sharing a look with him. "You're back to reporting?"

"No. I'm helping some friends…" she trailed off, a smile creeping onto her face, "with some projects."

"Is that what you say about us?" Sam asked, remembering Clark's suspicions towards them.

"Basically," Chloe agreed. "They don't need to know about the looming apocalypse."

"And what are you doing with _them_ that we don't need to know about?" Sam could hear the frown in his brother's voice without looking at his face.

Chloe shook her head. "Don't worry about it."

"Chloe—" Dean started, but she cut him off with a shake of her head.

"This isn't your fight, Dean," she argued, gesturing to her laptop.

"But it's yours?"

"Yes. They're my friends."

"So you're going to split yourself between two teams?"

"I can handle it."

"Are you sure?" Dean pressed. "Because this isn't something you can do halfway."

Chloe crossed her arms, glaring. "I don't do anything halfway."

Sam stepped forward, sensing the building tension. "Guys…"

Dean glared at him, cutting him off. "What happens when your friends' projects become more time consuming?"

"I can handle it," Chloe repeated stubbornly.

Their conversation was cut short by a large crash downstairs.

Dean threw up his hands. "Come _on_."

* * *

"Chloe, get her out of here," Dean yelled over his shoulder as he unloaded his shotgun into the spirit. He didn't need to look back to know she was following orders. Two jobs or not, she knew how to handle herself in a hunt. And the first rule was protect the civilians.

Beside him, Sam brought up his gun, waiting for the spirit to reappear. A door slammed behind them and Dean spun, expecting to hear Chloe through the door. Instead, he heard Mrs. Reynolds' scream followed by a gun shot.

"Chloe?" Sam called, hurrying to the door as Dean reloaded his gun. The younger hunter tried the handle. "It's locked," he said, giving it a strong kick and stumbling back when it didn't budge. "The spirit's locked it."

Dean cursed. "Chloe!"

"I'm fine," she called back.

"We've gotta burn the body," Sam said, moving towards a different exit.

"Two problems," Dean stated, following behind. "We don't know which body, and we don't know where."

Sam waved his comments off, picking up his pace. "Just get the supplies and meet me upstairs."

* * *

It wasn't the first sealed attic they'd ever been in, but Dean couldn't help hoping it would be their last. The room was coated in dust and the smell of decades old corpse—correction, decades old, _burning_, corpse. Business would be down for weeks while they aired out the smell.

"Homer Barron, lived here fifty years ago and just disappeared one day. No body was ever found. Some people believed he was still here, hidden," Sam explained as they watched the late Homer burn.

"Fascinating," Dean mumbled, grabbing his cell phone and dialing Chloe's number.

No answer.

"She's not picking up," he said, pocketing his cell and moving towards the door. "You deal with Homer. I've gotta find Chloe."

Sam just nodded, returning his attention to the corpse.

Dean hurried downstairs, making his way through the mess of hallways. As he rounded another corner, he ran straight into another person. They let out a small yelp before stumbling back.

"Chloe?"

She nodded, offering him a small smile. "My phone broke," she admitted sheepishly. Apparently Casper doesn't approve of technology."

"Casper's gone," Dean assured.

"Good." She nodded. "Then you can help me explain that to Mrs. Reynolds."

* * *

Sam checked his watch a second time, before turning to his brother. "She's late."

"I know," Dean responded, making no move to leave his spot against the Impala.

"So we're just going to wait for her to make her way outside?" Sam pressed. "Because my ass is getting numb sitting here."

Dean shot him a look before returning his attention to the inn's front door. "I'm not her keeper."

"Wow," Sam teased. "Are you pouting?"

"What?" Dean snapped. "I don't pout."

"Maybe not, but I think you're getting dangerously close," Sam observed, using the tone he knew would get under Dean's skin fastest. "You're mad she's got another job that you don't know anything about, aren't you.

Instead of answering, Dean huffed and moved away from the Impala. "I'm going to see what's taking her."

Sam smirked, watching him go. "Hey Dean," he called before his brother disappeared through the door. "Take all the time you need."

Dean just flipped him off.

* * *

Chloe looked up when she heard Dean call her name from the hallway. She should have known they would come in to get her. They weren't exactly patient when it came to putting a hunt in the rearview mirror. The sooner they left the better.

"In here," she called, zipping up her bag.

Dean appeared in the doorway, cocking an eyebrow at her. "'Bout ready?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes at his familiar tone. He was still irritated about her side-job with Oliver. Making a split decision, she reached over and grabbed Dean's arm, pulling him into the room fully. "We need to talk."

"It can wait," Dean argued. "We're burning daylight."

"Let it burn," Chloe retorted. She reached around him and swung the door shut, before pushing him gently against it. "We need to talk," she repeated.

"Fine," Dean shot back, attempting to stifle his surprise. "Talk."

Chloe bit her lip, a list of responses running through her mind. _Trust me; I know what I'm doing; The apocalypse comes first; I'd tell you more if I could._ All true answers, but she knew they weren't what he was looking for. After her abduction, he'd been silently waiting for a similar performance. He expected her to change her mind and head back to Smallville as fast as her "normal" life could take her.

"Chloe?" Dean pressed, looking at her expectantly.

She sighed. "I'm sorry."

His face fell slightly. "Oh, well. Don't worry about it. It wasn't like I was expecting you to stick around forever."

"What?" Chloe blinked, realizing the error of her words. "No, Dean. That's not…" She shook her head in frustration, and stepped closer, pressing a hand against his chest.

"Then what?" Dean asked, staring down at her. If she didn't know better she would have thought he actually looked vulnerable. She wasn't sure she ever wanted to see him look that way again, especially not if she was the cause.

Mimicking his actions from all those weeks earlier, she stretched up and closed the distance between them, feeling him respond before their lips even touched. He held her as he had before, but there was something more desperate in his grip this time. He was worried. She could feel it.

She pulled away gently, realizing this was a time when words would speak louder than actions. Dean licked his lips, watching her carefully. She tightened her grip on his arm and willed him to believe her words.

"I promise, I'm not going anywhere."

To Be Continued…

* * *

**A/N:** It's that time of year, finals are right around the corner, and my schoolwork is piled high. So, this series will be going on hiatus for a couple weeks. I'm sorry I have to do this right around the season finales, but homework has to come first. ;)

Besides, this way I can plan out the finale of this series better. We should return to our regularly scheduled posts somewhere around May 12th with _at least_ four more episodes.

Thanks


	48. Unlikely Plans

**A/N:** Takes place before "Jump the Shark."

Also, schools out so now I can focus on wrapping this season up! Sorry for the delay!!

* * *

_Now…_

In the movies, the monsters oozed and exploded while they died, soaking the hero in unknown goo.

In real life, the monsters were already dead and the heroes just ended up in muddy ponds—though still covered in unknown goo.

"I hate ghosts," Chloe grumbled, peeling off her mud-caked coat and tossing it to the ground.

Sam grunted in agreement. "Still want to be a hunter?" he asked, offering her a tight smile.

"As long as it comes with a working shower." She ran her hands through her hair, more in an attempt to make sure nothing was caught in it, than to tame it. Judging from the mud on Sam's own hair and face, no amount of finger-combing was going to clean her.

"Most of the time," Sam said, pulling off his own coat.

The corpse was burned, the ghost put to rest, and Chloe was looking forward to the moment she could get out of her dirty clothes and into a shower. Behind them, Dean was reburying the body, his own clothes and hair completely mud-free.

Chloe studied him for a moment, watching him work quickly and effectively. There was something almost calming about his actions—ignoring the fact that he was reburying a coffin. For the moment, he had a definite purpose and knew exactly what was needed of him. And he was good at it.

"It'll be nice when this is over," Chloe said, returning her attention to her soiled clothes.

Sam shook out his jacket, sending a spray of mud into the dark night. "It's never over."

"Wow, aren't we depressing," Chloe snarked, raising an eyebrow at him. "I wasn't talking about _this_." She gestured to Dean and the grave. "There will always be evil in the world. I'm talking about the apocalypse. It'll be nice when we don't have the end of the world looming over our heads."

"Oh." Sam nodded, but didn't add a comment.

Chloe sighed, realizing she'd have to pull a conversation from him. "What do you think you'll do once this is over?" she asked as lightly as possible. She was fishing, and he probably knew it, but she still wanted to hide that fact as long as she could.

"Same thing I've been doing," Sam answered with a shrug, "hunt."

"Don't you want more?" she pressed, forgetting her dirty clothes for a moment and just focusing on him. Like an unspoken rule, the Winchesters were mostly tight-lipped about their past. She could count on one hand the amount of times their parents had come up in a conversation. She understood the need to not talk about painful memories. Her own mother had never been a possible topic for her, either. At the same time, though, she wanted to know more about the men Sam and Dean had been before she'd entered their lives.

She wanted to know the Winchester brothers she'd read about in Chuck's books. The ones who played pranks on each other, and hunted to save people, not because it was all they had left. The brothers who still had hope for a life beyond the next hunt.

"More what, Chloe?" Sam asked.

"I don't know. A home, a life beyond the next hunt," she said, voicing her thoughts.

"You mean, buy a house, get married, and raise a family?" he guessed, cynicism edging his tone. "The real world doesn't work like that."

"It doesn't? And why not? Bobby has a home. He doesn't live on the road, killing himself just so he can kill every single evil spirit out there," she argued, her own tone sharpening suddenly. "I'm not saying you'll have the perfect life, Sam. But you don't have to deny yourself happiness because there's evil in the world."

"I tried that kind of happiness once," Sam stated, not bothering to explain what had happened. Chloe knew. She'd read the book. _Jessica. _

She swallowed, trying to find a way to argue without insulting his late girlfriend's memory. Before she could, Dean walked over, effectively cutting their conversation off.

"Ready?" he asked, looking between the two of them expectantly.

Chloe nodded slowly, grabbing her coat from the ground. Sam caught her eye for a moment before turning and heading to the car, leaving her and Dean in his wake. _Let it go._ His eyes warned.

But Chloe had never been good at letting things go. Not completely, anyway.

Dean grasped her shoulder as they walked to the car, squeezing. "You two smell like a toilet," he teased, missing the unspoken conversation that had taken place in front of him.

* * *

"You look like hell," Bobby commented, watching them from the back porch.

Sam heard Dean huff a laugh as they climbed the porch steps, Chloe following close behind. "Good one, Bobby."

"I wasn't joking." The older hunter grabbed Dean's shoulder as soon as he was close enough. "What have you three been doing with yourselves?"

"Hunting," Chloe answered, shooting Sam a loaded gaze. He just glared back, returning his attention to the men in front of him. He wasn't in the mood for her non-verbals. Knowing Chloe, she'd get around to speaking her mind again, and until then she could keep her comments in her head.

Bobby grunted in response, guiding the group into his home. "Did you manage to squeeze any sleeping or breathing into that tight schedule?" he demanded as they paraded into the dining room.

Dean shrugged, lounging in a chair. "Enough."

"'Enough', good." Bobby nodded in mock sincerity. "I'll have to remember that when I'm fighting this apocalypse on my own."

Sam frowned, watching Bobby carefully. Something was stressing him out more than normal. "What's wrong, Bobby?"

"The apocalypse," he replied.

"Yeah, got that memo the first time." Dean crossed his arms, mimicking Sam's frown. "You get another lead, or something?"

"Or something," Bobby agreed. He moved to a stack of papers on the counter and set them on the table with a thump. "No strong leads, yet, but going off of what you gave me, Chloe, I'd say we're looking at some broken seals."

"How many?" Dean asked, rummaging through the information. Sam read over his shoulder. Weather reports, death reports, generic demon activity heightened. It was what they normally saw, but on a bigger scale.

Bobby shook his head. "Too many."

* * *

Dean ran a hand over his face, blinking in an attempt to clear his vision. He glanced at his watch and debated the chances of him getting a few minutes of sleep before someone came in to check on him. Somewhere between reviewing Bobby's Seal information and settling in for the evening, Dean had been abandoned in the library while the others were off on other projects.

_Sleeping, most likely,_ Dean decided, pillowing his head in his arms. If Sam and Chloe were going to leave him with all the research, he was allowed to get some sleep first. _Not like it's the end of the world, or anything._

"You better not drool on my notes," Bobby said, causing Dean to curse and sit up. "If you're so tired there's a couch in the next room."

Dean shook his head, leaning back in his chair. "I'm fine."

"I can see that," Bobby snarked. He grabbed a chair and sat across from the younger hunter, frowning in a way that made Dean wonder if he was about to be grounded. "What are you doing, Dean?"

"Stopping the apocalypse."

"No," Bobby shook his head. "That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it. I understand it's literally the end of the world at stake, but this has to stop."

"We'll stop when the apocalypse is stopped," Dean argued, standing from his seat. He wasn't in the mood for a lecture, especially not when everything Bobby was going to say Dean had already said to himself.

Bobby grabbed his arm before he could walk away. "Watch out for them," he stated, giving him a knowing look.

"I always do," Dean argued, frowning at any hint otherwise.

Bobby nodded, his grip tightening. "And take care of yourself. You're no good to this war if you wear yourself out."

* * *

Chloe bit her lip as she fiddled with the book in her hands. She sat on the back porch, watching Sam go through the Impala's weapons stash, deciding what needed to be restocked or replaced.

"What, Chloe?" Sam asked knowingly, without looking up from his task.

She frowned, opening and closing the book a moment before joining him at the Impala. "Why have you cut yourself off from everyone you knew?"

"I haven't," Sam answered. "I've still got you and Bobby. And I don't think Ellen would hang up on me if I gave her a call."

Chloe rested against the trunk, thrusting the book into Sam's line of sight. "What about all your friends from before?"

Sam sighed, stepping back from the trunk to give her his attention. "Is this about before? Me settling down eventually? What's with your sudden interest in my social life?"

"I just don't want to see you get lost in the hunt," she admitted. "It's a dangerous road we're traveling down, and I'm afraid you won't be able to find your way back."

"What do you think I should do, then?" he asked. "Call up Becky and fill her in on what I've been doing the last three years?" He crossed his arms, looked down at her. "It's not that simple."

"What about her?" she blurted, holding the book open to the section she'd reread multiple times, since her earlier conversation with Sam. It wasn't long, but it had given her more hope for Sam's future.

Sam skimmed over the pages, frowning as he did. Finally, he handed the book back to her, shaking his head slowly. "No." He slammed the trunk punctuating his statement. "I'm not the same person I was then."

"And you think she is?" Chloe pressed, following him into the house.

He paused on the porch, spinning to look her in the eyes. "Most people aren't cut out for this life, no matter what they've seen or done," he said, offering her a tight smile before disappearing inside Bobby's house.

Chloe looked down at the book still in her hands.

'_So maybe you're not cursed. Maybe…maybe you'll come back and see me,' Sarah said hopefully. _

_Sam nodded. 'I will.'_

Chloe closed the book, shoving it back in her bag. "Don't count on it, Sarah."

* * *

_Maybe you'll come back and see me._

Sam shook his head, remembering Sarah's statement from years earlier. It had been a week since his conversation with Chloe and he still couldn't get his mind from remembering what-could-have-been. After Jess, there had been few women he'd thought he could have feelings for, and even fewer he actually did. And yes, Chloe was right, Sarah had been on that short list, but years later, that meant nothing. Things were different now. His life was more dangerous.

_Not everyone finds their Chloe Sullivan,_ he mused, listening to his brother wake up.

For his brother's sake, he hoped Chloe stayed close, and safe. Even if Sam never found another Sarah, Dean deserved happiness.

* * *

Chloe flipped through the pile of papers one last time, making sure she'd reviewed everything. Satisfied, she stood from the desk and made her way outside. Over time, she'd grown used to Bobby's home and all its quirks, but no matter how often she visited, the place still seemed too quiet without the Winchesters' presence. Bobby, by nature, was a quiet man, and when it was just the two of them, the whole house was nearly silent, save for moments of conversation.

Part of her longed to be on the road with the brothers still, but Bobby had asked for more help with his research and she'd agreed, knowing the brothers needed to continue on to the next hunt.

"Think any louder you'll wake the neighbors," Bobby stated, moving to meet her outside.

She smiled at him as he settled at her side. "Just thinking about the guys."

"Really?" Bobby replied, sarcasm evident in his tone.

"You've known them for a while, right?"

He nodded. "Long before Sam even knew the monsters in the closet were real."

"So, have they always been this…" she shrugged, trying to find the right word, "driven?"

Bobby shrugged, nodding again. "Not always about hunting, no, but when those boys are set on doing something, it's damn-near impossible to stop them."

She faced him, setting her jaw. "Can we stop this, Bobby? Can we win?" she asked.

He squeezed her shoulder before returning his gaze to the junkyard in front of him. "I hope so."

* * *

Dean listened to the nervous kid on the other line, trying to guess why he would be calling his dad's old phone. "Who is this?" he asked.

The kid let out a heavy breath, obviously troubled by the news of John's death. "I'm his son."

To Be Continued…


	49. Blurred Boundaries

**A/N:** Takes place after "Jump the Shark"

* * *

_Before…_

Zatanna offered Oliver a small smile, stepping forward as she spoke. "Just know: there are far more dangerous people out there in the world than me. People with much greater control over the genuinely nastier magics than I do."

Oliver nodded, deciding he didn't want specifics at the moment. He knew the world was a scary place, but he was too busy taking down the non-magical bad guys, at the moment, to worry about anyone else.

* * *

Chloe stepped closer, biting back a smile. "Doubt it."

He smiled and started to respond when Sam coughed.

"I'm going to go talk to the owner. Why don't you two search the place for ghosts." Sam frowned. "And a private room."

Dean shrugged at his brother's not-so-subtle hint. "Play nice, Sam," he said, waving his brother from the room.

Sam paused at the doorway, fixing him with a knowing look. "You too."

* * *

"You've got two jobs?" Dean asked, walking into the room. He moved to stand beside Sam, sharing a look with him. "You're back to reporting?"

"No. I'm helping some friends…" Chloe hesitated, a smile creeping onto her face, "with some projects."

"Is that what you say about us?" Sam asked, remembering Clark's suspicions towards them.

"Basically."

* * *

Dean listened to the nervous kid on the other line, trying to guess why he would be calling his dad's old phone. "Who is this?" he asked.

The kid let out a heavy breath, obviously troubled by the news of John's death. "I'm his son."

* * *

_Now…_

"The room we need will be up ahead. Based on reports, that should be where the lab is," Chloe spoke as she read the schematics on her laptop. Five dots moved in sync towards the room in question. She'd done the research and all the reports had stated activity in and around the large room.

Of course, the reports had also stated that the lab had been abandoned over a year ago, but look what they'd said about 33.1.

"We're in," Aquaman announced.

"Holy," Impulse muttered. Chloe tensed at his tone. That wasn't what she wanted to hear. "Watchtower, you sure you've got the schematics right?"

"Positive," Chloe answered. "What's wrong?"

"If this place was a lab it's been abandoned, and fast. It's a mess in here," Cyborg stated.

"It looks like—" Chloe hissed as her earpiece squawked with static, cutting Arrow off mid-sentence.

"Arrow? Arrow, come in," she ordered, gripping the mattress beneath her in fear. "Someone answer me."

The relative quiet of Bobby's house was nothing compared to the moments of silence coming from her earpiece. Suddenly, the house was too loud, and the lack of noise in her ear was too quiet.

"Impulse? Cyborg? Report."

"Holy," Aquaman declared, mimicking his teammate's earlier exclamation.

Chloe let out a breath of relief. "Report," she repeated.

"There's something here," Canary said. She sounded winded. "It's moving fast."

"Something?" Chloe repeated.

"It's not human," Impulse explained. "It's got Cyborg and Arrow trapped in the room. We can't get in."

"Aquaman?" Chloe asked.

"Sorry, Watchtower. The door's not budging," he answered.

Chloe cursed. "I think their com-links are still out. What did this thing look like?"

"A ghost," Impulse answered.

"What?" Chloe frowned. "Are you sure?"

"I'll have to agree with Impulse," Aquaman said. "This thing looks like a ghost. And it's pissed."

"Can you call to them?" she asked, thinking fast. She was the coordinator of their missions, but sitting in a house in the middle of South Dakota made it hard to coordinate anything when the missions went wrong.

"Yes," Impulse answered.

"Good. Tell them to find iron or salt," she said, rolling her eyes at her words. Where were they going to get salt? "It'll repel the spirit long enough to open the door. Then I want you out of there."

"Watchtower," Canary started, her tone warning her against a command of retreat. Arrow wasn't one to turn-tail and run.

"Do it," she snapped, cutting Canary off.

There was another long stretch of silence, and Chloe worried she hadn't given the right advice. Maybe it wasn't a ghost after all. What if they couldn't find any iron?

"Arrow and Cyborg are safe," Canary reported.

Chloe breathed a sigh of relief. "Mission's over, folks. Get out of there."

"Abandon the mission?" Arrow questioned.

"Trust me, this isn't our fight. Get out before that thing comes back," she ordered, willing Arrow to listen to her. She might be the brains of the operation, but Arrow rarely followed a direct order, choosing instead to follow his own plans.

"Fine," Arrow agreed suddenly. "Everyone move out."

Chloe breathed a sigh of relief before pulling her earpiece out and repacking her equipment. They were safe, for now, and she had another crisis to deal with. But first, she was going to have to do more digging on that warehouse. A ghost could give the impression of recent activity inside the building, but she was still surprised she hadn't found any hints of a haunting. _Maybe the Winchesters can look into it_, she thought, knowing the brothers were near the Wisconsin warehouse—

She jumped and turned, suddenly realizing she was being watched. Bobby frowned at her from the doorway.

"Something you want to share with the class, Chloe?"

She sighed.

* * *

It had been less than a week since they'd given Adam a hunter's funeral, and Dean just wanted to forget the smell of smoke. A hunt was distracting, but it didn't keep his mind completely occupied, especially not during rare moments of downtime.

Chloe had called them about a haunting in a nearby warehouse and the brothers had left Windom, Minnesota in the rearview mirror. Now, they sat in their motel room, waiting to investigate the old warehouse.

"I can't find any evidence of this ghost in any local news sources. If the place is haunted, the locals don't know about it," Sam said, closing his laptop. "How does Chloe know about this place?"

Dean shrugged, keeping his attention on the weapons in front of him. "Didn't say. But do you really think she gave us bad information?" he asked.

"No. Guess not. I'm just surprised she heard about this when no one here has." Dean heard Sam stand and move around behind him. "I'm also surprised she didn't insist on joining us on the hunt. It's been a while since we left her at Bobby's."

Dean smirked, knowing his brother could sense it without seeing it. "Aw Sammy, do you miss her?"

"Do you?" he countered.

Dean huffed, ignoring his brother's knowing tone. "Dude, I'm concentrating," he said, gesturing with the shotgun in his hands.

"I'm not asking if you want to marry the woman," Sam said, remaining behind him—out of the line of fire, probably. "It's a simple question."

"I guess," Dean said with a shrug.

Sam cuffed on the back of the head, finally moving into his line of vision. "You practically jumped her in front of me, and you 'guess' you miss her?"

Dean set his gun aside so he could focus his attention on frowning up at his brother. "What's with the Dr. Date routine?"

Sam shrugged. "Nothing, I just think you're being a little nonchalant about the whole thing."

"What 'whole thing'?" Dean asked. "Chloe's at Bobby's because she's helping him track down Seals. The apocalypse, remember? We've still gotta deal with that. I'll write Chloe some love sonnets after it's over."

Dean could see Sam's thoughts running through his mind, and he turned away, ignoring the conclusions his brother was drawing. He didn't want Sam to draw conclusions on the relationship he may, or may not, have with Chloe. _He_ hadn't even drawn conclusions on it. He didn't even know what _it_ was.

"What if there is no 'after'?"

Dean blinked at Sam's question, knowing it was a logical one—_stupid logical brothers_. "There will be," he said stubbornly.

"Dean…" Sam started.

"Could you give me a break, Sam? The world is ending around us, okay? I've got more to worry about than me and Chloe." He sighed as he finished with the shotgun, setting it aside. "Besides, I tried this whole dating thing once. Look how well that turned out," he said, attempting humor and falling short.

"This isn't like that," Sam argued, knowing exactly what Dean was talking about: _Cassie Robinson._

"It's close."

Sam hesitated. "Are you saying you love her?"

Dean sighed, looking anywhere but his brother. "I'm saying she deserves better than a page in my little black book."

* * *

"Holy…"

Chloe smirked. "That must be the word of the day."

"And I thought my panic room was well-stocked," Bobby mumbled, staring down at Chloe's trunk.

"Yeah, well. My friends have eclectic needs," Chloe explained, gesturing from a flash grenade to a stake.

Bobby nodded, pulling out a rosary. "So, you're a hunter slash…" he trailed off, looking towards her for the missing description.

"Slash hero's aid." When Bobby opened his mouth to argue, she held up a hand. "And that's all I can tell you. If I say anymore it's not _my_ secret I'll be giving up. Please, Bobby."

The older man nodded, handing her back the rosary. "I understand secrets," he said simply. "But I still want to know something?"

"What?"

"Where did you get all this _stuff_?"

Chloe laughed. "Uncle Sam."

* * *

There was a knock at the front door and Bobby glanced upstairs, wondering if Chloe was expecting visitors—he certainly wasn't. Waiting long enough for another knock to sound, he opened the door, fixing the man on the other side with an unamused look. "Can I help you?"

"Robert Singer?"

"Depends."

The blonde man frowned. "On?"

"Who's asking."

"Oliver Queen," the man said, offering a hand. Bobby shook it briefly. "I'm looking for Chloe Sullivan."

On cue, Chloe stepped up behind Bobby, resting a hand on his shoulder. "I've got this," she said, keeping her tone low and private, despite the fact that Oliver stood two feet in front of them.

Bobby met her gaze, looking for confirmation. "I'll be here," he answered, giving Oliver a look before stepping back. He watched the two of them step outside and ignored the uncertainty he felt. Chloe could take care of herself. He wasn't about to start playing protective father-figure—again.

* * *

"Is this why you haven't been home in over a month?" Oliver demanded once they were standing a safe distance from Bobby's house.

"Just what do you think 'this' is?" Chloe challenged. She should have known this moment would come. She'd already had the talk with the Winchesters, and now it was time for the other team to give her their opinion—or at least Oliver.

Oliver threw up a hand in annoyance. "How should I know? You've been giving half the story since you joined the team. I want all of it, now."

Chloe crossed her arms, frowning at his demanding tone. "No."

"Chloe…" Oliver warned.

"I never took you for the overbearing father, Oliver," Chloe said. "I don't think I like this new side of you."

"I'm not overbearing," he argued. "I'm just—you…I knew you were smart, Chloe, but I didn't realize ghost hunting was part of your skills." His tone softened to a dull roar as he spoke. His expression was almost sheepish. Chloe had struck a nerve.

"I'm just full of surprises," she deadpanned.

Oliver sighed, crossing his arms and mimicking her stance. "You know, this is what I meant when I said you shouldn't split yourself between jobs."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but my split-schedule probably saved your life."

"I could have handled it," he argued.

Chloe fixed him with a knowing look. "I think you're less upset that I know about the supernatural, and more upset that my knowledge saved your butt. Am I right?" Before he could answer, her cell phone went off. "Hold that thought," she said, fishing the object from her pocket.

Oliver frowned just as his own phone went off. He stepped back to speak in relative privacy, as Chloe answered her call.

"Hello?"

"Chloe? We ran into a problem at this warehouse of yours," Sam said, sounding torn between amused and annoyed.

"Problem?"

"Yeah. I think some of your friends are still hanging around," he explained. "Some super-powered friends."

Chloe cursed, glaring at Oliver's back. From his irritated stance she guessed he was on the phone with one of his team's heroes. "What happened?"

"We went to check out the place and were ambushed by your friends. Dean and the woman have been arguing ever since."

Chloe bit her lip to keep from laughing at the image of Dean and Dinah going toe-to-toe. Dean didn't stand much of a chance. "I'll handle it, just lay low for now. And tell your brother to back off Canary."

"Canary?"

"It's her name."

"I'll tell him."

"Thanks, Sam."

She hung up and marched to Oliver's side, grabbing his shoulder. "Tell them to stand-down," she ordered, pointing to the cell phone still pressed to his ear.

"You sent in your other team?" Oliver asked, irritated.

"I told you it wasn't our fight. You should have listened to me."

Oliver paused as the person on the other end started talking again. "Fine, go home guys." He hung up. "Apparently your other team left."

"That's because I told them to, and they trust me enough to listen."

Oliver frowned. "I trust you, Chloe."

"If you did, we wouldn't be having this conversation. And that warehouse would probably be ghost-free now," Chloe said, shaking her head. "You of all people should understand the importance of secrets. I don't tell you what I'm up to because it isn't your fight. Same reason why I didn't tell my 'other team' about you guys. But thanks to you, the two teams have now met."

"It was just a matter of time," Oliver observed, offering her a tight smirk.

Chloe sighed, knowing he had a point. "Just do me a favor: trust me. I don't keep secrets to irritate you."

Oliver's smirk softened to a smile, and he squeezed her shoulder. "It's just an added bonus, right?"

"Something like that."

* * *

"Does this other job of yours have anything to do with what Zatanna told me?"

"In a way, yes."

"Tell me."

"Ollie…"

"Please, Chloe. I want to know more. You might not be around next time I get my bow handed to me by a ghost."

"Fine, but just the basics."

"Okay."

"First, you better start carrying more iron and silver. And salt."

"Salt?"

"Trust me."

* * *

Sam followed his brother into Bobby's house, shaking his head at Dean's tense shoulders. He was still irritated by their earlier confrontation with Chloe's masked and hooded friends.

"You take care of yourself, Chloe."

Dean's posture stiffened more at the unknown male voice coming from the living room. With a look towards Sam, he marched into the room. Chloe and her blonde friend stood, looking over at Dean in mild-surprise.

"You must be the ring leader," he said wryly.

"Ring leader?" the man asked, looking between Chloe and Dean.

Before anyone could speak another word, Bobby stepped into the room, glaring at the group. "You four better keep it down, or take it outside," he snapped. He paused, frowning at his own words. "At this rate I'm going to have to start handing out groundings," he groused.

Chloe stepped forward, resting a comforting hand on Dean's arm. "Dean, Sam, this is Oliver Queen. He had some questions about the things that go bump in the night."

"Why?"

"Precaution," Oliver answered.

"Run into a lot of ghosts while vacationing in the Bahamas?" Dean snarked.

Chloe's grip on his arm visibly tightened and she pushed him a step back so he was standing next to Sam. "Here's how this is going to work," she started, looking between the two groups. Sam and Dean, and Oliver. Hunters and a _superhero?_—Sam guessed, knowing he had to have some sort of connection to the group they'd encountered at the warehouse. "You two stick with the supernatural," she continued pointing to Sam and Dean. "And you stick with the metahuman." She pointed to Oliver.

"And I'll be in the middle, shaking my head," she finished.

Sam smiled at Chloe, watching Dean and Oliver look from each other to the small blonde between them. After a beat, they both came to the same decision, nodding in unison.

"Good. Now Mr. Queen," Bobby started, giving the billionaire a loaded look.

Oliver nodded. "I'll be in touch, Chloe." With that, he left the house.

Once his car pealed out of the driveway, Dean turned to Chloe, but she cut him off, holding up a hand. "Before you say anything please note that Oliver left, and I'm still here."

Sam watched the look Dean gave her, remembering what he had—or hadn't—said to him earlier. _Are you saying you love her?_ Dean grabbed her hand and guided her out of the room, earning as small smile as he did.

_I'm saying she deserves better than a page in my little black book._

To Be Continued…


	50. Dark Paths

**A/N:** Takes place during "The Rapture." And sorry for the delay. Finishing this up is taking longer than it should. Thanks for reading!

* * *

Before…

"Davis…"

He held up a hand, cutting her off. "There's some sort of connection between us Chloe and I know that you feel it too."

She opened her mouth again to speak, but paused when he reached for her face, resting a hand against her cheek. "I held my tongue while you were with Jimmy, but I can't do it anymore." He smiled gently, meeting her gaze before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her lips.

Chloe felt herself reciprocate. She reached for his collar, ready to pull him close when something settled in her gut. _This isn't right._ She pulled back and moved to stand. "I can't, Davis. I just can't."

"Why not?" he asked, standing with her. He studied her gaze, searching for an answer in her eyes. "Is there someone else?"

* * *

_[11/22/2008. 10:15 PM]_

_Chloe it's Davis. I know you're not picking up because of what happened between us, but I need you to call me back. You're the only one I can trust. I did something horrible._

* * *

Sam watched the look Dean gave Chloe, remembering what he had—or hadn't—said to him earlier. _Are you saying you love her?_ Dean grabbed her hand and guided her out of the room, earning as small smile as he did.

_I'm saying she deserves better than a page in my little black book._

* * *

_Now…_

"I'm sorry."

Dean closed his eyes, shaking his head gently. This wasn't how he'd wanted the conversation to go. But then, nothing seemed to go his way lately, why should a simple conversation with Chloe? "You can't miss something you never knew you had."

Chloe's hand paused at the base of his neck and she leaned forward so her forehead was pressed against his temple. "You don't have to be stoic all the time. Sometimes it's okay to grieve. He was your brother."

Dean shook his head, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I've grieved. I want to move on."

"Okay." She slid from the hood of the junker and moved to stand in front of him. "But I'm here, if you change your mind."

He smiled at her words and scooted forward so she stood between his legs. Bobby and Sam were still in the house, giving them space, and her billionaire friend was long gone. "Thanks," he drawled, pulling her close.

So the conversation had taken a turn he hadn't expected. He was going to make sure something went according to plan.

* * *

"_There's a reason you two don't get along. You were destined to kill each other."_

Davis shook his head, attempting to block out Tess's words. It wasn't true. He wasn't destined to kill Clark. So what if the two of them didn't get along? He'd never want to kill him.

But it didn't matter what he believed. It only mattered what Tess believed. And she was certain he was destined to kill Clark…so Clark could save mankind—like that made any sense.

_I need help,_ he decided, shoving his shaking hands into his pockets. He was a murderer, there was no getting over that fact, but he wouldn't let himself kill a man like Clark. He needed to be stopped.

* * *

"_Cass what's wrong?"_

"_Meet me here. Go now."_

Dean jerked awake, unsettled by the dream. Castiel was in trouble. _My mind's too public?_ He shook his head and sat up, feeling the paper from the angel clutched in his hand. He flipped it open, read the address, and slid out of bed. He had to get moving.

"Dean?"

He turned and found Chloe standing in the doorway of the spare bedroom. After a heated debate, she'd insisted on letting the Winchesters take the spare room. She'd practically moved into the room over the past few weeks, but she wasn't going to let them sleep on the floor again. Dean had offered half of his bed, but she'd just looked between him and the twin-bed, and smirked. _Nice try, Winchester._

Dean turned to Sam, waking him with a hand on his shoulder. "Sam, we gotta go."

"Dean, what's wrong?" Chloe pressed, moving into the room as Sam sat up.

"It's Castiel. Something happened." He moved around the room as he spoke, grabbing clothes and supplies.

"He's in trouble?" Sam followed suit and dressed quickly. This wasn't the first time they'd had to leave in the middle of the night. Chloe planted herself on a bed out of their way.

Dean nodded, remembering the angel's face and tone. "He's worried about something. He gave me an address." He held up the paper and Chloe snatched it from his hands.

"That's the next state over. You don't have a deadline do you?"

"He didn't say, but the sooner we get going the better. Whatever's going on it's big. I've never seen him that freaked." Dean zipped up his bag and grabbed the address back from Chloe, shoving it in his pocket. "Sam, let's go."

Bobby met them in the hallway, torn between annoyance and concern. "Sneaking out?"

"Castiel called. We've gotta figure out what's up," Dean explained, before continuing downstairs.

Chloe grabbed his arm at the front door. "If Castiel is worried, it can't be good." She bit her lip. "Just…"

"We'll be fine," he assured. "Maybe you two could do some research and figure out if anything happened here." He showed her the address again. "Maybe give us a heads up on what we're about to walk into."

Bobby stepped forward, resting a hand on Chloe's shoulder. "Be safe."

* * *

Bobby sighed as a knock sounded at his front door. He got more visitors now that Chloe was a regular guest than he ever had on his own. He enjoyed her company, but he could do without her other life making house calls. _Oliver Queen._ He shook his head as he headed for the door. _I had a billionaire-hero in my house. Who next?_

The man on the other side of the door didn't look like a billionaire, but Bobby wasn't really a good judge of what a billionaire should look like. "Yes?" he asked, deciding he didn't like the look in the man's eyes. He'd met shady men before, but there was something off about this man's expression. Something dark.

"I uh, I think I have the wrong place. Is Chloe here?" he asked, shifting and shoving his hands in his pockets.

Bobby rolled his eyes, looking up towards the second floor where he knew Chloe was working. He just wasn't sure if working meant supernatural or superhero. "And you are?"

"Davis Bloome." He didn't offer his hand in greeting.

"Wait here," Bobby instructed. "I'll go get her." He closed the door before Davis could respond and headed upstairs. He'd let Chloe decide if she wanted to talk to him, he wasn't going to invite him into his house. He didn't trust him.

"Chloe?" Her door opened under his knock and he found her sitting on her bed with her phone pressed to her ear. She smiled at him, indicating that she'd be a minute.

"Jimmy? Are you sure?" She frowned, listening to the other end. Bobby paused in the hall, surprised to hear her ex-fiancé's name. He hadn't heard her bring him up for months, not since the breakup. _My house has turned into a soap opera._

"No, I'm not doubting you…okay maybe I am, but not because I don't trust you. Just because what you're saying is kinda, out there." She paused, and nodded though Jimmy couldn't see her. "Alright, I'll look into it. I promise. Just promise me you'll be safe. _If _anything is going on, it could get really dangerous." She smiled at his response and hung up.

"Jimmy, huh?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah, I was just as surprised. I think we've had a total of one phone call since I broke off the engagement. He was pretty hurt." She shrugged. "I guess he doesn't hate me anymore, or he thinks I'm the only one who'll believe his theories."

"I doubt he ever hated you."

"Doesn't matter. I made the right choice. We both knew that." She smiled and shook her head, dismissing the topic. "So, what did you need?"

"You've got another visitor," Bobby said, glad for the topic change. "Davis Bloome."

"Davis?" Chloe repeated. He frowned at the way she repeated his name. There was a hesitation in her expression that she was trying to cover.

"Want me to run him off?" he asked.

She shook her head, squaring her shoulders slightly. "No. I can talk to him. Apparently my past acquaintances are making reappearances today."

Bobby followed her downstairs, frowning at her words. _Acquaintances, sure._

* * *

"Where the hell are you, Ruby? This isn't funny anymore. I'm all out. Stop whatever you're doing. Call me. I need more."

Sam hung up, trying to calm down. Dean was outside filling up the car. He couldn't see him like that, he'd get suspicious. He did not want Dean to know what he was doing.

He wasn't naïve. He knew drinking demon blood was about as low as it got, but he needed it to be stronger. He couldn't stop the apocalypse without the extra boost. And at the moment, he just plain _needed_ the blood. He'd never gone this long without it, and it didn't help that he'd only recently been nearly drained dry by ghouls. His mojo, as Dean called it, was running on empty and he wasn't sure how much longer he could handle it.

He needed a boost.

He needed Ruby.

* * *

"What are you doing here, Davis?" Chloe demanded once they were alone on Bobby's porch.

"I need your help," he confessed. He stepped closer, hopeful. "I didn't know where else to go."

Chloe shook her head, stepping back. "Davis, I'm not one to turn away a friend in need, but I don't know how I can help."

_He's dangerous. He's a murderer._ She frowned as Jimmy's words replayed in her head. He had called to tell her his theory on the reclusive EMT. He was certain Davis was the Metropolis murderer. He had no hard proof, but he had enough questionable evidence. He'd just needed someone to back him up.

Chloe was touched he'd turned to her despite their broken relationship, but that didn't mean she completely believed him.

And yet, Davis was standing in front of her asking for help and all she could think of was Jimmy's accusation.

"There's something inside me," Davis said. "Something dark that I can't control. I don't know what to do."

"Have you tried a psychiatrist?" Chloe asked, knowing without explanation his wasn't the problem a regular psychiatrist could fix.

Davis sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. His body tensed with emotion as he opened them again. "This thing inside me, it's dangerous."

_He's dangerous._

Chloe took another small step back. "And?" she pressed.

"And," he swallowed. "I don't want to kill anymore."

_He's a murderer._

"Kill?"

Before Davis could continue, the front door opened and Bobby stepped out, cocking his shotgun as he did. "Get off my property," he ordered, aiming the gun at Davis's chest.

"You really don't want to threaten me," Davis warned, his tone shifting suddenly from nervous to annoyed.

"And you really don't want to threaten _me_," Bobby countered.

Chloe watched as Davis's face settled into a glare, his eyes flashing red suddenly. Demon, she thought then mentally shook her head. He wasn't possessed, at least not by a demon. "Davis, calm down," she reasoned, taking a tentative step forward. She turned to Bobby, motioning for him to lower the weapon. There was no mistaking the fact that Davis was dangerous—he'd admitted it.

And if it came down to it, she doubted Bobby's gun would be much help.

"Chloe," Bobby started, though he lowered the gun.

"Go inside, Bobby." She shot him a look. "Please."

With a loaded look, the older man disappeared behind the door and Davis calmed, his eyes fading to their original color. "Chloe, I need your help," he repeated, panting slightly at his anger.

Chloe sighed and looked over at the house, knowing Bobby was nearby. "I can't."

"Chloe—"

"No, Davis. I'm sorry." She stepped forward and held his shoulders, ignoring the fear she felt when she looked at him. "You are the only one who can stop this thing inside you. You need to get help. You need to turn yourself in."

"No." Davis shook his head, stepping away from her. "I need to die, before I kill anyone else."

"Davis…"

He offered her a tight smile. "You're right. I'm the only one who can stop the beast." Before he moved away completely, he leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. "You were a great friend, Chloe."

With that, he hurried into his car and drove away, leaving her alone on the driveway. _I need to die._ She squeezed her eyes shut, ignoring the pull of uncertainty. Had she made the right choice?

She set her shoulders and walked back inside. She couldn't help Davis. There was something she could do, though—

"Dean called," Bobby said as soon as she stepped inside.

Chloe took one look at her friend's face and decided she never wanted him to look like that again. "Is he okay?" she asked, fear lacing her tone.

He shook his head. "It's Sam. And it's worse than we thought."

* * *

"Where's Chloe?" Sam asked as they headed towards Bobby's panic room.

"She's grabbing some more information off her computer. She'll be down in a minute," Bobby said.

Sam nodded, opening the heavy metal door. Bobby gestured inside the room. "Go on inside, I wanna show you something," he directed.

Sam shrugged, leading the way into the room, Dean behind him. "Alright. So, what's the big demon problem?"

"You are," Bobby stated from the doorway. "This is for your own good."

* * *

Chloe closed her eyes, attempting to ignore the yells of protest coming from the basement. She was on the second floor and she could still hear Sam. _He's drinking demon blood. We have to do something._

"_This thing inside me, it's dangerous."_

She shook her head, remembering the news report Bobby had shown her earlier. Davis Bloome had been named the Metropolis serial killer by Tess Mercer. Apparently Jimmy's evidence had been enough to peak the LuthorCorp diva's interest.

"_You need to stop him, Clark. You're the only one who can."_

She didn't know what Davis was, but she was sure he wasn't human. She just hoped Clark could handle it.

"Let me out!"

She flinched as Sam's cries hit a new level. Shoving her notes to the side, she hurried downstairs and out the front door, ignoring Bobby's surprised look as she passed him. She needed to get away from Sam's screams, even if she couldn't get away from her guilt.

Davis was a monster, and Sam was becoming one. Her friends were on a dark path and she couldn't stop them.

To Be Continued…


	51. Still Falling

**A/N:** Takes place during "When The Levee Breaks"

_

* * *

Before…_

"I'm uncertain about the role you play with Sam and Dean," Castiel.

"If you're going to tell me to stand down you can leave now," Chloe stated, crossing her arms defensively. "I signed on as their partner before you ever entered the scene."

"No, that's not it."

"Then what?" she pressed, feeling anxious. She knew the angel was powerful, and she wasn't in the mood to be threatened by a heavenly power.

"I'm not sure," he admitted, looking down at her with eyes that she knew _had_ to belong to something not of this earth. They were mesmerizing. "You could still play an important part in this war."

"You don't know?" she asked, surprised.

He shook his head. "Only my Father does, and he has not revealed your part."

* * *

_Now…_

"_Chloe, I need your help."_

"_I can't."_

Chloe closed her eyes and pressed herself against her headboard, ignoring the words circling her head, ignoring the screams echoing from the basement—ignoring what they both meant:

She'd screwed up.

Davis was a monster, and Sam was turning into one.

"No." She pushed the blanket away and stood up. "No. It's not over."

* * *

"_So, what's the big demon problem?"_

"_You are. This is for your own good."_

Sam closed his eyes and pressed his hands to his head, trying to stop the hallucinations (_Alistair, his younger self, who else?_). He was stronger than this. He could control it. He just had to try.

Dean thought he was weak, but he'd show him. He was strong enough to take down Lilith—or he would be once he got out and found Ruby.

He needed the blood to stop Lilith. It was a tool, and nothing more. No matter what Dean thought, that's all it was.

"Sam? Sam, are you okay?"

He stood up and moved to the door, surprised to see the small window open. Had it always been open?

"Chloe?"

She offered him a small smile, standing back so she could see through the opening. "Hey Sam."

Sam shook his head and moved back until he was sitting on the bed again. "Go away. You aren't real."

"I'm not real?" she questioned, her disembodied voice echoing through the window—or maybe through his head. "And how did you come to this conclusion?"

Sam glared at the door. "You're just a hallucination. Just like the others."

"Yeah?" Her tone trailed the line between amused and worried. "And why exactly would you hallucinate about me while you're going through detox?"

"Because—" he swallowed. "Because you're going to replace me."

"Replace you?" Was she smirking? He could hear her smirking.

"Dean thinks I'm weak. That I'm not cut out to do this job with him anymore. I'm not cut out to be his partner. He doesn't _understand_. And instead of trying to, he'll just replace me. Lucky him, he's got you on standby." He closed his eyes as he continued. "He doesn't need me. He's got you."

"You're wrong, Sam."

His eyes flew open and he jumped, finding her standing in front of him. "How?"

She shrugged, stepping closer. "You're his brother, his _blood_. He'll always need you."

Sam hesitated, wanting to believe, but knowing he shouldn't. "Yeah?"

"Of course," she assured. "Trust me." She stepped closer and frowned down at him. "But you were right about one thing: you _are_ weak."

"No, I'm not. Dean just thinks I am. He doesn't understand," Sam argued.

"Understand? Understand what, Sam? How if you _use_ this evil thing inside of you for the greater good it makes it less evil?" She cocked an eyebrow in amusement. "It makes _you_ less evil?"

"I'm not evil," Sam insisted.

"You forget, I had evil inside me once," she continued, ignoring his statement. "Brainiac, remember? I know all about the pull that evil has, and how tempting it is to give in. But that's the difference between you and me. I _never_ gave in. I wasn't weak, not like you."

Sam shook his head. "I am not weak."

"No?" she questioned. "Tell me, Sam. How many innocent people have you bled to get stronger?"

"None," Sam insisted, then paused. "One," he amended. "But that was it. It's only ever been Ruby before that."

"And what happens when she's not enough?"

He hesitated, blinked, and she disappeared, her question echoing through the room.

* * *

"_I'm getting strong enough to kill Lilith."_

"_This is about as far away from strong as you can get. Try weak. Try desperate. Pathetic."_

Dean closed his eyes and pressed his hands together, listening to the cries coming from the basement. He felt useless. His brother was downstairs being tortured through detox, and all he could do was sit and wait.

"Dean?" Chloe said, walking into the room.

He looked up. "Hey."

"You look like crap," she observed, obviously attempting humor and failing.

"That's good, 'cause I feel like hell."

Chloe sighed and moved to kneel in front of him, resting a hand on his knee. "He'll be fine. It's Sam. He can get through this."

"And what if he can't?" Dean demanded. "What if I'm killing him?"

She frowned, pressing a hand against his chest. "You are not killing him. You're trying to save him."

Another yell sounded from the basement and he closed his eyes. "I'm doing a bang-up job, so far."

"He will be fine," she insisted. She squeezed his knee until he looked at her, and he was surprised to see tears in her eyes. "We can save him."

"It's demon blood, Chloe. It's going to take more than our stubborn will to save him."

She nodded. "Then get some help."

* * *

"_Now correct me if I'm wrong, but you willingly signed up to be the angels' bitch? …I'm sorry. You prefer sucker?"_

"_We're gonna have to tie him down for his own safety."_

"Dean? You with me? ...Dean! Before he has another fit!"

He jumped, Bobby's voice pulling him from his stupor. "Yeah, yeah. Let's just get it over with."

Dean felt his heart jump when Sam suddenly stilled under his hands but quickly realized he'd simply passed out. Footsteps sounded outside the door, followed by a familiar gasp. "What happened?" Chloe asked, moving inside.

He looked up at her, shaking his head. "I don't…"

"Chloe," Bobby cut in, his voice firm. "Outside of this room is a shelf with some supplies. I need you to grab handcuffs and some cloth to bind his wrists and ankles."

She nodded and disappeared out of the room, leaving Bobby and Dean to haul Sam onto the old bed. By the time they managed that, she reappeared with the supplies.

"Help me," Bobby ordered, dividing the supplies up amongst them. Wordlessly they worked, chaining Sam to the bed to keep him from having any repeat performances.

_I'm sorry,_ Dean thought, tightening a handcuff around his brother's wrist.

He stood back as Bobby secured the last handcuff around Sam's ankle. He hadn't thought it was possible for things to get worse, but in no time at all he'd managed to sell his soul to the angels and watch his brother nearly kill himself having some kind of supernatural seizure.

He felt torn. He wanted to stay and make sure his brother didn't hurt himself anymore, but he also knew Sam didn't want him around at the moment. Not after everything he was putting him through.

"Come on, son," Bobby encouraged, making the decision for him. "There's nothing you can do for him, at the moment."

Dean nodded, following Bobby and Chloe upstairs. _I should have done something sooner._

* * *

"_You need to stop him, Clark. You're the only one who can."_

"Chloe? Where did you go? …Chloe?!"

She jumped, realizing she'd actually answered her ringing phone. "Yeah, sorry Ollie. There was an emergency. I meant to call you back sooner."

"Emergency? Is everyone okay?" Oliver asked.

Chloe closed her eyes, remembering the image of Sam lying on the floor unconscious and Dean and Bobby sitting over him eyes wide with worry. It wasn't something she was going to forget anytime soon.

"Yeah. It's under control. What did you need?"

"I need you to talk some sense into your best friend. I get that he's got a moral code as big as the solar system, but he refuses to kill Davis. He won't take a life," Oliver stated. "He's got some half-baked plan to toss Doomsday into the Phantom Zone."

"What? He can't." Chloe shook her head. "I'll talk to him. There has to be another way."

"There is," Oliver agreed. "Kill him."

"I'll talk to him," Chloe repeated before hanging up. She started to dial again when she heard the rush of wind behind her. "Clark?" She turned and jumped, surprised to see an unfamiliar man standing behind her. "How did you get in here?" she asked, looking from her closed bedroom door to the balding man in front of her. "_Christo_," she spat out of instinct.

The man shook his head as he stepped forward. "Trust me, I'm not a demon. In fact, I serve _Christo_."

"Angel?"

"Yes ma'am. Zachariah's the name. And as an angel, let me give you some heavenly advice: Go back to Smallville. You're needed there."

"How do you know where I'm needed?" she asked, crossing her arms in annoyance. "You angels don't even know what my 'role' in the apocalypse is."

Zachariah smiled and Chloe frowned, disturbed by the facial expression on a self-proclaimed heavenly being. She was pretty sure she'd never seen Castiel smile. "That's because you don't have a role. Sam has a role, Dean has a role. We even have a plan for your friend Bobby. But you," he shrugged, "are not needed. You are needed in Smallville, though. You and I both know your friend Clark is about to do something he'll regret forever: damning Davis Bloome to Hell, so to speak."

"Since when do you care about what goes on in Smallville?"

"We're trying to stop the apocalypse—"

"And doing a great job," Chloe snarked.

"—we don't need some alien creature coming in at the last minute and destroying everything we're trying to save."

Chloe frowned, hesitation creeping up. "How exactly am I supposed to stop Doomsday?"

"Sorry," Zachariah shrugged. "Can't go into details. It'd spoil the fun. But you're a smart girl. You'll figure it out."

"I'm needed here," she insisted.

Zachariah shook his head. "No. Those Winchesters can handle this little apocalypse all on their own. They don't need their blonde sidekick to do what they were destined to do. They'll be fine. Clark and all those people you care about in Metropolis won't be."

Without another word, he disappeared, and Chloe cursed before grabbing her bag and hurrying downstairs. Just because he was an angel didn't mean she had to trust him, but he was right. Clark needed her.

_And Sam and Dean will be fine_, she reminded herself as she entered the living room, planning her goodbye explanation before she saw Dean. _They have to be fine._

* * *

"_And I tried so hard to pretend we were brothers. That you weren't one of the filthy things that we hunt. We're not even the same species. You're nothing to me!"_

Sam jumped, turning at the sound of a gun being cocked. "Uh, uh, Sam. The only place you're going is back inside with me," Bobby stated, pointing his shotgun at him.

Sam swallowed, wondering how he'd sunk so low that Bobby was willing to aim a gun at him. Bobby only pointed guns at Winchesters he was really pissed at. His dad, for example. This time, though, there was no anger in Bobby's voice, only worry and desperation.

Sam had the upper hand. "No," he stated.

Bobby sighed. "Dammit, boy."

Sam stepped closer, willing Bobby to do what he was threatening to do and knowing he never would. "You won't shoot me, Bobby."

He saw the older man hesitate, despite his tough words and knew he'd won. A moment later, he was speeding out of the junkyard, leaving an unconscious Bobby in his wake. _I'm sorry. _

_I'm the only one who can stop this. You'll see eventually._

* * *

"_Those Winchesters can handle this little apocalypse all on their own. They don't need their blonde sidekick to do what they were destined to do."_

"No." Chloe shook her head, stopping her car in the middle of the empty road. "No, he's wrong. I'm needed _here._" She turned the car around and hurried back to junkyard, hoping nothing had happened in her absence.

Clark only needed a phone call to straighten him out. He'd listen to reason. And if he didn't she'd insist he pay her a visit at Bobby's house. She needed to stay.

It was her role. She was sure of it.

* * *

"_Then that's worse."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because it's not something that you're doing, it's what you are. It means…"_

"No." Sam shook his head. "Say it."

"It means you're a monster," Dean finished quietly.

Sam felt something inside him snap. His brother wasn't going to help him. He was on his own.

He nodded, confirming his internal decision, then swung.

* * *

"_You don't know me. You never did, and you never will."_

"_You walk out that door, don't ever come back."_

"No." Dean shook his head, sitting in Bobby's living room. "I couldn't get through to him. Sam's gone."

"Dean I'm—"

"Don't," he cut her off. "Don't say you're sorry. Please. It's done. We've got other things to worry about."

Chloe frowned, stepping forward. She looked ready to argue—and a part of him hoped for an argument—but she decided against it and sat beside him, resting a hand on the side of his head. "You're hurt," she stated, her fingers nearing the cut above his eyebrow.

"It reopened in the fight," he explained, not bothering to mention the invisible marks he felt on his throat. He was sure they'd appear soon enough, and he could explain then. For now, he just wanted to forget the feel of his brother's hands around his throat.

She nodded and leaned forward, catching his gaze and holding it for a moment before speaking. "I just want you to be okay." Her hand brushed over his cut as she spoke. "Both of you."

"It's too late for that," he said, watching her tense suddenly. "Chloe?" She frowned, her gaze focused on her hand at his forehead. "What is it?" he asked, reaching up for her hand. Before he could grab it, she pulled back, pressing her fingertips to her own forehead.

It was then he realized the small spark of warmth he'd felt hadn't just been the palm of her hand. He reached up and felt for the cut that had been there seconds ago. "You...I thought…" His hand brushed smooth skin.

She nodded slowly. "So did I."

To Be Continued…


	52. Apocalypse Soon

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay!!

_Before…_

"_Those Winchesters can handle this little apocalypse all on their own. They don't need their blonde sidekick to do what they were destined to do."_

* * *

_Now…_

The apocalypse was nigh, the end was coming fast, they were all doomed, etc. etc.

And yet all Dean could do was sit. Sit and worry and process.

So much had happened in the last few days he felt dizzy. Sam had been thrown into and then had busted out of detox. He was now with Ruby, attempting to stop the apocalypse.

Chloe's double life as a hunter and hero-coordinator had been exposed. Yet, she was still at Bobby's, fighting for the hunters' side. She also still had meteor powers despite belief to the contrary.

And him? He'd signed himself over into the angel's command. Then managed to destroy the last link between him and his brother.

"Screw this," Dean groused, standing and moving to the stairs. He could sit around and feel sorry for himself after the end of the world. For now, he had a demon to track down and kill before she killed everyone else.

"Chloe?" he called before walking into her room. He hesitated inside the doorway, catching a flash of sadness in her eyes. "You okay?" he asked as he moved inside. A number of Bobby's books had made their way into the room and now sat piled around her bed like an ineffective barrier.

She nodded and smiled, running a hand over her eyes as if she expected tears. "Fine. Just thinking."

"That seems to be the main course of action lately. Think of anything useful?" He sat on the bed parallel to hers and watched her compose herself. He knew the moment her wall snapped back into place, blocking any insecurity from sight. It was scary how good she was at that.

She shook her head. "Nope. Nothing useful. Actually, I haven't gotten much beyond: 'Oh God, what are we going to do'."

He reached over and rested a hand on her knee. "We'll be fine."

"Liar," she stated.

"Pessimist," he countered.

She offered him a tight smile before navigating the books between the beds to sit next to him. "What _are_ we going to do?"

"Win," he answered simply.

"Yeah?"

He nodded, catching her gaze. "Yeah."

"Good…"

He wasn't sure who moved first, but she was suddenly in his arms and he didn't care who'd moved first only where they were moving. With practiced ease, he scooped her up and shifted so he was laying over her on the bed. She made a small noise of surprise but pulled him closer, pushing their kisses deeper than they'd ever gone. Not missing a beat, he moved a hand to her waist and grabbed her shirt, sliding it up the length of her torso.

The end was nigh, they were all screwed (_figuratively speaking_), etc. etc.

But for the moment, Dean didn't care. He needed this. He needed _her._ His world had come to a crashing halt hours earlier. He needed relief.

Her shirt slipped off. His shirt slipped off. Their pants. Bra—

"Dean!"

Dean froze, his arms wrapped around Chloe as he worked to undo the clasp at her back. She blinked, looking up at him in alarm as footsteps sounded on the stairs down the hall.

"Get off," she hissed, reaching to reclasp her bra.

With a groan of annoyance, Dean obeyed, but not before dropping a kiss on her bare collarbone. "I feel like I'm back in high school," he groused as he slid back into his jeans, watching appreciatively as Chloe followed suit.

"Your dad walked in on you and a girl?" she teased, pulling her shirt on over her head.

"No. Not my dad." He smirked. "Room service."

Chloe's laugh was cut short as the footsteps neared. Dean shook his head and finished dressing. "So not fair," he mumbled, offering her a small smile.

She ran a quick hand through her hair and pressed a kiss to his lips. "Later," she promised, matching his smile.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Dean paused. "What if we don't have a later?" he asked as Bobby knocked on the door.

She just shook her head in mock disapproval. "I thought _I_ was the pessimist in this relationship."

* * *

Sam played with his phone, scrolling through his contacts _Bobby, Chloe, Dean_. He hesitated on Chloe's name, wondering what she would say if he called. He knew what Bobby and Dean would say—if they'd even answer. But Chloe? He wasn't sure about her. She might agree with Dean and call him a monster as soon as she answered.

Or maybe not. Maybe she still had hope for him.

Maybe she was the only one who had hope for him, because he certainly had none for himself.

"You gonna call someone, or keep playing with that?" Ruby asked from the driver's seat.

Sam glared at her before returning his attention to his phone. "I will, if I feel like it."

"Maybe you should give Chloe a call."

He tensed. "Why would I do that?"

"Because of all people she's probably the most qualified for getting through to Dean. You know, put in the good word for you." Ruby shrugged. "Those two are close, right? Like you and Dean were?"

_Were._ Past tense. He and Dean had ceased being close months earlier. He wasn't sure when, exactly, but sometime in the last year their bond had snapped.

"_Because you're going to replace me."_

He'd said it during the failed attempt at detox to a Chloe that had been nothing more than a hallucination, but he couldn't help believing it was true. He and Dean were done. Chloe was the only one left and he couldn't expect her to side with him—even if she had hope for him.

"Call her," Ruby insisted.

Sam shook his head, pocketing his phone. "Just drive."

He couldn't make Chloe chose, because he wasn't worth choosing.

* * *

"Castiel!"

Chloe paced, looking from Bobby's house to the junkyard around her. The angel was still MIA and she was growing impatient, but she was out of options. She could either yell herself hoarse or give up on Dean. And she wasn't about to pick the latter.

Dean had vanished—literally—in the middle of a conversation with Bobby and she could only assume it was the angels doing. Sam had told her about the last time they had grabbed Dean without warning. Only this time, Bobby hadn't seen any angels just Dean's vanishing form.

_Please be okay,_ she willed, grimacing at how often she thought that when it came to the Winchesters.

She closed her eyes. "Cass, please." Over the years, her prayers had morphed from the traditional ones she'd learned in Sunday school to silent requests of safety whenever someone she knew was in danger—which happened more often than she liked.

"You have never called for me before."

She spun, facing the angel as he appeared behind her. "First time for everything," she replied. "Where's Dean."

"Safe."

It had been a while since she'd spoken to the angel, but she could still tell something was off with him. He looked hesitant, and he never looked hesitant.

"Where?" she pressed, moving into his personal space.

Castiel shook his head slowly and stepped away from her. "With my superior. We are keeping him there until he is needed."

"Needed? He's been needed all year. He's gotta find Sam and help him stop Lilith."

"No. He is not needed yet. He will be soon."

Chloe frowned and moved forward again, grabbing a hold of his jacket. "Fine, then take me to him. I want to see him."

"Zachariah told you already, you are not a part of our plans. You are not needed. You cannot see Dean." He frowned, staring down at her with a sudden intensity that threw her for a moment. "You cannot interfere with prophecy."

She sighed, her grip on his jacket tightening. "You told me that before. And guess what? I'm still here. I'm not going anywhere. Now tell me where Dean is or I'll find him myself." It was an empty threat. She knew it and she suspected Castiel knew it too. If they wanted, the angels could hide Dean from her for forever. No amount of tracking and hacking skills could stand up against the power of Heaven.

She still had to threaten, though. They had to know she wouldn't give up.

"You are not part of the Winchester Gospel," Castiel argued. She blinked, watching his gaze soften slightly. "Their destiny has already been written." He paused and she realized he was telling her more with his eyes than words. "You cannot change it."

With that, he disappeared, leaving her hand to grasp nothing but air.

"_Their destiny has already been written."_

* * *

The apocalypse was nigh, etc. etc.

And Dean was stuck in some angelic Green Room with nothing but his thoughts.

"_He's your brother, and he's drowning." _

Or, more accurately, Bobby's lecture.

The older hunter meant well, but he didn't understand what he was talking about. Sam wasn't Sammy anymore. He'd tried reaching out to him and all it had gotten him was bloodied and bruised.

If Sam was through with him that was fine, but he wasn't about to keep trying to drag him back just to end up in another fist fight. His brother was old enough to go off on his own. He could make his own decisions and live with them.

"_You are a better man than your Daddy ever was."_

He sighed, continuing his pacing as he pulled out his phone. He wasn't going to call Sam. He'd call Chloe and let her know what had happened to him. She was probably freaked by his sudden disappearance.

"_So you do both of us a favor: don't be him."_

Dean shook his head as he played with his phone. Calling Sam wasn't going to change anything. Sam was a Winchester (_even if he didn't want to be_) and they were nothing if not stubborn. If Sam had decided to leave him and his life as a hunter behind, there was no stopping him. He was just going to end up with a big headache for his troubles—

"Screw it." He flipped open his phone and dialed.

"_It's Sam. Leave me a message."_

* * *

The door to the ramshackle house opened slowly, and Chloe waved as recognition shone in Chuck's eyes—it was nice to be recognized even if she wasn't being written about.

"Chloe? What are you doing here?"

She smiled as she stepped inside. "Let me guess, you _didn't_ see me coming," she teased.

Chuck shut the door and led her into his living room. "Ah, no. I didn't. But you knew that."

"Yeah. It's a perk of being unimportant."

"So, what are you doing here?" he repeated.

Chloe looked around the room. Paper and trash covered one end of the couch and a majority of the floor. The TV in the corner played the news. "Have you written the end?"

"The end? You mean the end of the world?" Chuck asked then nodded. "Yeah. I'm thinking of calling some hookers later and living out the end in style."

Chloe ignored his comment, moving past him into the kitchen. "Where are they?" she asked, sorting through the paper on his desk. "Sam and Dean? Where are they? Are they hurt? Dead?"

Chuck walked up behind her and pointed to his computer screen. "Dean's with the angels. At an unknown location. And Sam is on his way to Ilchester, Maryland."

"What's in Ilchester?" she asked even as she moved to read the excerpt.

"Lilith and the final Seal before Lucifer," Chuck explained, standing beside her.

Chloe frowned at what she read. Lilith, a possessed-nurse, deceitful-Ruby. "Oh Sam," she mumbled, fearing the predicted end. Dean wasn't with him. Sam was alone with Ruby and the rising Devil. The ending wasn't clear, but she could only guess the outcome: Sam wasn't going to survive.

"Yeah," Chuck nodded. "If I could, I would have killed Ruby off months ago."

"You cannot interfere with prophecy," she snarked, offering the author/prophet a tight smile. "St. Mary's Convent?"

"So much for hallowed ground," Chuck agreed.

She stepped away from the computer and nodded. "I can stop him."

"Yeah, because messing with prophecy has worked out so well in the past."

She frowned at Chuck before returning to the living room. "Nothing is set in stone. I can stop him." She hesitated as the television caught her attention. _Breaking News_ flashed across the screen, announcing tragedy in Metropolis. "Doomsday," she muttered, watching the clips of destruction. "Oh no, Clark."

Chuck moved to her side. "Who's Clark?"

"A friend from Metropolis. He could be in danger."

Chuck nodded looking between the television and her. "Looks like you have a choice to make."

She groaned and shot the author an annoyed look. "Why do people keep saying that?"

"Because it's true. Sam and Dean's choices have been made for them. You aren't destined to do anything. You have a choice."

She shook her head, moving to the door. "No. I don't."

"_Those Winchesters can handle this little apocalypse all on their own. They don't need their blonde sidekick to do what they were destined to do. They'll be fine. Clark and all those people you care about in Metropolis won't be."_

* * *

_Listen to me, you bloodsucking freak. Dad always said I'd either have to save you or kill you. Well, I'm giving you fair warning. I'm done trying to save you. You're a monster, Sam -- a vampire. You're not you anymore. And there's no going back._

Sam closed his eyes as Dean's words replayed in his head. He'd been right. Dean wasn't going to forgive him. There was no going back to what they had been.

_Might as well do something useful,_ he thought, attempting to ignore the screams of the possessed nurse behind him. Ruby was getting him all the blood he'd need to take down Lilith. Once he drank it he'd be unstoppable.

But he would also be changed.

He'd told Ruby that he could feel the blood changing him, and he doubted the amount he was about to drink would leave him unaffected. He was becoming a monster. Willingly.

But he was stopping Lilith.

Dean was done with him. He could only assume Bobby and Chloe felt the same. There was nothing left for him except this. He was going to take what Azazel had cursed him with and use it to save the world. To stop the apocalypse.

* * *

"Sam! Sam! Sammy!" Dean pounded until his hands were throbbing then kept pounding. He had to get through to Sam. He couldn't let the final Seal break. He couldn't let his brother bring on the apocalypse.

Laughter sounded from inside and he felt a chill run down his back. "No," he ground out, giving the door one final pound before turning to look for help. He needed something to bust down the door: a ramrod or an ax—or an extra body.

_Anytime now, Chloe,_ he mused as he grabbed a nearby stand. As far as he knew, Chloe was still at Bobby's trying to stop the end with nothing but her computer and stubbornness.

He could have used her help, though.

With one last look down the empty hall, he sighed and returned to the closed door. He needed her help, but until she showed up (if she showed up) he was on his own.

* * *

Dean finally broke through the door and charged.

Ruby stood with a smirk. "You're too late."

"I don't care."

Ruby's meat-suit dropped and he was left with his brother.

Sam swallowed, looking more broken and terrified than Dean had seen him in years. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his words more of a plea for mercy than an apology.

Dean didn't say a word, just watched his brother. His _brother._

The end was at their feet.

And all Dean could do was stare at his brother_._

* * *

Lilith's blood continued to circle the convent floor and the two brothers beside it stood oblivious—or uncaring. For the moment all that mattered was the rift between them. The rift that, moments earlier, had seemed unmendable.

Suddenly, the pattern of blood completed and light burst from the center. The floor shook as the blinding light grew brighter and coated the room with its brilliance. Dean turned to his brother urging him into action. Acting on an instinct instilled in them since childhood, they reached out and grabbed for each other, longing for safety in the one person that mattered most. "Sammy, let's go," Dean insisted, urging his brother into action.

But Sam didn't move, just stared at the growing light. Fear flickered in his eyes as he watched the end erupt from the convent floor.

"He's coming."

Chuck shook his head as he crossed out his work. It wasn't right—not anymore. In the past, his visions had never changed. There had never been a do-over of what was to come—until now.

"_Nothing is set in stone."_

After Castiel and Dean had arrived at his apartment, his vision of the end of the world had changed. Lucifer still broke free, but in the end, the Sam and Dean had been standing side-by-side, together again. Dean hadn't stopped the final Seal, but he'd found his brother.

But the end had changed again.

With a sigh he set to work, rewriting as he had newly envisioned (_prophesied?_):

Lilith's blood continued to circle the convent floor and the two brothers beside it stood oblivious—or uncaring. For the moment all that mattered was the rift between them. The rift that, moments earlier, had seemed unmendable.

"Sam? Dean?"

Both brothers looked up in surprise as someone joined them. Relief and fear fought for position in her eyes as she watched them stand on the cursed ground. Wordlessly, she moved to stand in front of them, looking expectantly from one brother to the other.

It was unusual for her to be silent, but the moment called for it. Lucifer was rising behind them. Words were meaningless. With determination, the newcomer reached forward and grabbed a hold of each man, gesturing to the door with her head, a clear suggestion of departure.

Before anyone could move, the pattern of blood completed and white light burst suddenly from the center. The floor shook as the blinding light grew brighter and coated the room with its brilliance. All three shared a mutual look of fear, sensing the end. The woman's grip on the men tightened as the brothers reached for each other, longing for safety in the person that mattered most.

Linked, they formed their own circle, mirroring the one growing behind them.

"Let's go," Dean insisted, not in the mood to think about matching circles and their respective links. He pulled, urging the group towards the door, but Sam remained rooted where he stood, stopping the three of them from moving further. Terror flickered in his eyes as he watched the end erupt from the convent floor.

Beside him, his companions froze as well. The oncoming horror mesmerizing them momentarily.

"He's coming," Sam whispered.

The woman shook her head in silent regret. She was too late. She hadn't stopped anything. The end was coming and she hadn't changed a thing.

If she only knew.

To Be Continued…

* * *

**A/N2:** Alright, Season Two is done. I've got a few tentative plans for Webisodes, but for now I've gotta focus on other fics. So, see you next season!

Thank you all for your awesome reviews!! Hope you tune in next season. ;D

* * *


	53. Finding Position

_Before…_

"Both," she answered, daring him to argue. "I choose both of them."

* * *

Chuck shook his head as he crossed out his work. It wasn't right—not anymore. In the past, his visions had never changed. There had never been a do-over of what was to come—until now.

_"Nothing is set in stone."_

After Castiel and Dean had arrived at his apartment, his vision of the end of the world had changed. Lucifer still broke free, but in the end, the Sam and Dean had been standing side-by-side, together again. Dean hadn't stopped the final Seal, but he'd found his brother.

But the end had changed again.

* * *

Lilith's blood continued to circle the convent floor and the two brothers beside it stood oblivious—or uncaring. For the moment all that mattered was the rift between them. The rift that, moments earlier, had seemed unmendable.

"Sam? Dean?"

Both brothers looked up in surprise as someone joined them. Relief and fear fought for position in her eyes as she watched them stand on the cursed ground. Wordlessly, she moved to stand in front of them, looking expectantly from one brother to the other.

It was unusual for her to be silent, but the moment called for it. Lucifer was rising behind them. Words were meaningless. With determination, the newcomer reached forward and grabbed a hold of each man, gesturing to the door with her head, a clear suggestion of departure.

Before anyone could move, the pattern of blood completed and white light burst suddenly from the center. The floor shook as the blinding light grew brighter and coated the room with its brilliance. All three shared a mutual look of fear, sensing the end. The woman's grip on the men tightened as the brothers reached for each other, longing for safety in the person that mattered most.

Linked, they formed their own circle, mirroring the one growing behind them.

"Let's go," Dean insisted, not in the mood to think about matching circles and their respective links. He pulled, urging the group towards the door, but Sam remained rooted where he stood, stopping the three of them from moving further. Terror flickered in his eyes as he watched the end erupt from the convent floor.

Beside him, his companions froze as well. The oncoming horror mesmerizing them momentarily.

"He's coming," Sam whispered.

* * *

_Now…_

"Come on!"

It only took a second before hesitation was replaced by instinct, and the three of them hurried to the door. Almost predictably, the door slammed shut, cutting off their only exit, and no amount of pounding or tugging was going to reopen it.

Chloe looked from one brother to the next, a list of questions passing between them, and no answers.

The light from the convent floor grew, bringing with it an ear-piercing noise that had all three of them reaching to protect their ears, and brought them to their knees.

_We lost_, Chloe thought then squeezed her eyes shut.

* * *

Suddenly, something shifted and everything stopped. The light faded, the noise vanished, and Chloe blinked her eyes open, slowly bringing her hands down.

An airplane. They were on an airplane, flying over the place they'd just been trapped inside. _We're alive_, Chloe realized, even as the plane fell into chaos.

* * *

"This isn't a game, son."

Chloe shook her head, watching Zachariah try to intimidate Dean into submission. She'd only met the angel once, but it was enough for her to decide he was bad news. Heavenly soldier, or not, he wasn't someone she wanted Dean teaming up with.

And from the looks of things, Dean agreed.

"Lucifer is powerful in ways that defy description," the angel continued. "We need to strike now, hard and fast—before he finds his vessel."

"His vessel?" Sam asked. "Lucifer needs a meat suit?"

Zachariah shrugged. "He is an angel. Them's the rules. And when he touches down, we're talking four horsemen, red oceans, fiery skies—the greatest hits. You can stop him, Dean, but you need our help."

"Wait," Chloe cut in, moving forward, before Dean could comment. "You're joking about this, right? 'Lucifer is powerful in ways that defy description', but _Dean_'s going to stop him?" She looked up at Dean, with a wry apologizing smile, then back at the angel in front of her. "Somehow that just doesn't make sense to me."

Zachariah frowned. "You aren't a part of this," he answered. "It doesn't need to make sense to you."

"And what about me?" Dean demanded, stepping back into the conversation. "You wanna explain all that to me?"

"Have faith," was the simple answer, and Chloe was pretty sure she _heard_ Dean glare.

"In you?" he spat. "Yeah, 'cause look how well that turned out last time."

Zachariah stepped forward, his expression stern. "You call that stunt you pulled with Castiel faith?" Something near Dean's hand caught the angel's attention. "You're bleeding," he realized, surprised.

"Insurance policy," Dean informed, before revealing the banishing sigil, and sending the angels away. "Learned that from my friend Cass, you son of a bitch."

Chloe blinked and turned to the three men behind her. "That went well," she muttered.

Chuck studied her a moment. "He was wrong, you know," he said finally.

"About what?" she asked, a list of possibilities forming.

"About you," Chuck explained. "You were in my last vision. You _are_ a part of this now."

Chloe raised her eyebrows, looking between the brothers and their prophet. "What does that mean?"

* * *

Even by Dean's standards, the motel was pretty low on the sanity scale, but it was the best they could get on short notice. They needed to stay undetected, and a low-key (_way_ low-key) motel was the first step.

The second step, Sam was working on elsewhere. How, exactly. Dean hadn't asked.

He looked across the motel room, to where Chloe sat on a bed, her sock-clad feet pulled underneath her to avoid contact with the carpet. She had the motel's stiff, unused copy of the Bible in her lap, _research_ she'd insisted, but he could tell she wasn't studying.

"So, you finally did something worthy of the Winchester Gospel," he said, attempting to pull her from her funk.

She glanced up at him and offered him a small smile. "Guess so," she agreed and set the Bible aside. "What do you think it was?"

"Showing up at the convent, probably." He stepped down from where he stood by the motel's kitchenette and sat on the bed opposite hers. "Speaking of which, why _did_ you show up at the convent? Or more importantly, how?"

"I got the directions from Chuck."

"But you weren't supposed to be at the convent," Dean guessed, remembering the prophet's words to him and Castiel. He frowned mentally,_stupid Castiel_.

"Nope. But neither were you."

"Yeah, well, couldn't let my brother break the final Seal," he muttered.

Chloe shook her head in disgust at the whole situation. "We all got played."

He nodded in agreement then pointed at her. "You didn't answer my first question: why did you go to the convent."

"You have to ask?" she countered.

Dean looked at her. "Apparently."

"To stop Sam." She dropped her gaze to the blanket beneath her, playing with a loose thread. "Guess you really can't undo what is written."

Dean wanted to say something reassuring. Remind her that she _had_ undone what had been written. They both had, even if they hadn't stopped Sam. Chuck's vision had changed twice, when they had arrived at the convent.

Instead, though, he just nodded. "Guess not," he agreed bitterly.

* * *

Sam shot his brother a desperate look, only to have him shrug innocently. _Jerk_, he thought, not missing the smirk that played on Dean's lips. "Becky," Sam tried, turning his attention to the girl who was currently…stroking him. "Uh, can you…quit touching me?"

She shook her head, closing her eyes happily. "No."

He was debating what would happen if he just stepped away from her, wondering if she'd follow, when the bathroom door opened, and Chloe stepped into the room, assessing the situation with a cocked eyebrow. "Am I interrupting something?" she asked carefully.

That got Becky's attention. The girl stepped back and turned to Chloe with a small frown. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"Yeah, that never gets old," Chloe quipped, sharing a look with Dean. "I'm their friend."

"_Friend_?" The word was drawn out, like a concept Becky didn't understand. "You certainly don't look like Bobby."

"That's because I'm not."

Becky stepped closer to the other woman, eyeing her carefully. "I've read _all_ their books. You aren't in them."

"I know," Chloe agreed. "I'm from the deleted scenes." She winked at Sam. "Ask Chuck."

"I will," Becky decided then stepped towards the door. She turned and stared at Sam for a moment, before reaching for the door handle. "You better not hurt my Sam," she stated, pointing at Chloe. Without waiting for a reply, she pulled open the door and hurried out.

A moment of silence passed over the trio then Chloe chuckled. "_Her_ Sam? Looks like you've got a fan," she teased.

He curled his lip in disgust. "Yay for me…"

* * *

It should have been surprising how quickly the mood changed from relative-ease to tension, but after the last twenty-four hours, not much surprised Chloe. Bobby had arrived at their motel room, bringing with him another chance to solve their current Chuck-provided riddle.

_The Michael sword is on earth. The angels lost it. In a castle, on a hill made of forty-two dogs._

Only, Sam wasn't content with just letting research commence and other problems wait. He needed to confess his crime, and not even Dean's warning was going to stop him.

"I killed her, and I set Lucifer free."

Chloe froze, staring up at Sam. She knew the truth. She'd already read it from Chuck's vision, but Bobby hadn't heard the truth. Leery, she turned to the older hunter, watching his expression carefully.

"You _what_?" he demanded, his eyes going dark with disgust. Chloe felt something flare up inside her, and took a step towards Sam.

"You guys warned me about Ruby, the demon blood, but I didn't listen." Sam ignored Chloe's presence, facing Bobby. "I brought this on."

Bobby stood from his seat at the table and moved so he was staring down at Sam. "You're damn right you didn't listen," he ground out. "You were reckless, and selfish, and arrogant."

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered, and Chloe stood next to him. She _knew_ what Sam had done was wrong, but watching Bobby warm up to what she was sure was going to be a heartbreaking lecture, gave her pause.

"Oh, yeah? You're sorry you started Armageddon?" Bobby demanded, walking forward as he spoke until he was standing in front of Sam. Chloe was surprised by the look in his eyes. She'd never seen him so irritated or disappointed with the Winchesters. Ever. "This kind of thing don't get forgiven, boy," he snapped.

"Bobby," Chloe cut in, only to be ignored.

"If by some miracle, we pull this off," Bobby continued. "I want you to lose my number. You understand me?"

Chloe didn't wait for Sam to respond, just stepped forward, putting herself between Sam and Bobby. "Calm down, Bobby."

"Calm down?" Bobby turned his glare on her. "You know what he did, and you want me to calm down?"

"Yes—"

"Chloe," Sam started, cutting her off. She looked back at him, and he shook his head, silencing her. "I'm going to go read some lore books from an old church that's nearby."

"You do that," Bobby agreed.

Chloe turned back to the older hunter then at Dean, hardly surprised when the oldest Winchester avoided her gaze. "I'm going with," she decided then walked out.

* * *

Bobby woke to the sound of pacing. It didn't take him long to realize he was in a hospital, even less to recognize that the footfalls at the end of his bed _weren't_ Dean's. That boy tended to stomp, when he paced.

"It's hard to sleep with all that noise," he groused good-naturedly.

Chloe paused mid-pace and smiled at him. "You're awake. How are you feeling?"

He took a mental survey of his body as she studied him like she was trying to sense any lie he might come up with. "Unhealed," he said finally.

She took a step forward, her hand stretched out in front of her. "It's not too late," she stated. "I could still—"

"No," he argued, attempting to scoot away from her healing hand. "I may have been out of it when you three dragged me in here earlier, but I meant what I said. I don't need your help. I'll heal the old fashioned way, thank you very much."

The last few, however many, hours were a bit foggy, especially since he spent most of the time out of it in a hospital bed, but he could still remember the feeling of the demon controlling his body. He, of all people, knew better than to slip up when it came to warding off demons, and yet, there he was, sitting in a hospital bed, attempting to forget the feeling of being a prisoner in his own body.

The only thing he was grateful for was the fact he'd been able to stop the demon from killing Dean. If anything had happened to him by Bobby's hand, he never would have forgiven himself.

"But Bobby." Chloe sighed and sat at the edge of his bed, looking more wounded than he felt. "What if this is permanent?" she asked, sounding guilty for even saying it out loud. He had a feeling her guilt was on other issues. _I should have known you were possessed. I should have seen the signs. I should have…_

Bobby crossed his arms, going for stubborn, and knowing it didn't quite work while he was immobile in a hospital bed. "I'll be fine."

She matched his stubborn frown. "You better be."

He watched her carefully then reached forward, squeezing her knee. "You've got other things to worry about," he reminded, thinking of the two brothers who'd been MIA since leaving him in the care of the hospital staff and Chloe.

Her frown remained in place. "Says you."

* * *

_"Your friend Bobby, we know he's gravely injured. Say yes, and we'll heal him. Say no, he'll never walk again."_

_"No."_

_"Then how about we heal you from…Stage-4 stomach cancer?"_

_"No."_

"No? What about Chloe? How well do you think that extraordinary mind of hers will work after a cerebral hemorrhage?"

* * *

"Chloe? Chloe!"

Bobby sat up so fast the room spin, but he ignored the vertigo, grasping blindly for his call button and watching Chloe collapse to the ground.

* * *

Sam fought to ignore the pain radiating from his broken legs, focusing on his brother and Zachariah. _Stage-4 stomach cancer. Cerebral hemorrhage._ The words cut deep, replaying in his mind as he watched the odd face-off between Dean and the angel.

If the angel's threat was real, Chloe was already dead. And Dean was dying in front of him. Weren't the angels supposed to be the _good_ guys?

Dean coughed, more blood appearing at his lips. "No," he ground out, and Sam wasn't sure if he should be proud or irritated. He settled for proud, because being irritated meant he wanted Dean to side with Zachariah, and that wasn't going to happen.

"Then let's get really creative," Zachariah started, and Sam flinched. _Just kill us_, he thought as the angel turned to him. "Uh, let's see how Sam does without his lungs," he said.

And Sam stopped thinking.

* * *

_"You need to be more careful."_

_"Hey Cass, were you really dead?"_

_"Yes."_

As soon as they slipped into the Impala, headed for the hospital, Dean pulled out his phone, calling Chloe. Tension filled the small space as Sam waited for confirmation that Chloe was safe. _Now, put everyone back together and go. I won't ask twice._ Castiel had really come through for them, but they had no proof that Zachariah had healed Chloe. For all they knew, she was now a corpse in the hospital morgue.

And no amount of empathy-healing could save her.

"Chlo'? Thank God." Dean curled a lip at his own words. "Well, you know what I mean. You're okay?" His brother nodded at something Chloe said. "Good. We'll be there soon," he said then hung up and slipped his phone back into his pocket as they drove back to the hospital. "She's fine," he said, glancing at Sam. "She just gave Bobby a scare then recovered before the nurses could show up."

Sam let out a relieved breath and settled in his seat. "Guess we'll have some explaining to do, when we get back."

Dean tightened a hand on the steering wheel, keeping his attention on the road. "Don't we always?"

_"You're_ the _vessel. Michael's vessel."_

* * *

There was only one difference between Clark's sudden entrances and Castiel's: wind. Clark came in with a burst of speed, throwing a gust of wind in her face.

Castiel just appeared.

"You're alive?" she blurted, when she blinked and realized she was no longer alone in front of the vending machine. "How?" She remembered something and stood straighter. "Where are Sam and Dean?"

"They're fine," the angel assured. "They are on their way back. I've come to offer protection."

"Protection?" she repeated as Castiel stepped closer. "Like a bodyguard?"

Instead of answering, he pressed a hand against her chest and she flinched, feeling pain erupt from inside her. "What…?"

"Enochian Sigil. It will hide you from Lucifer. He's about to get his vessel."

"Then stop him," Chloe argued. "You angels have all this power, use it."

Castiel looked saddened for a moment. "I can't," he replied.

Then disappeared.

* * *

_"We take 'em all on. We kill the Devil. Hell, we even kill Michael if we have to. But we do it our own damn selves."_

_"And how are we supposed to do all this, genius?"_

_"I got no idea. But what I do have is a GED and a 'give 'em hell' attitude, and I'll figure it out."_

As far as speeches went, Dean's to Bobby wasn't worthy of any awards, but it was what they all needed. Hope for the hard war they were about to face.

Chloe should have known it wasn't real.

"Dean…is there something you want to say to me?" Sam asked, hesitant.

Chloe stepped back, letting the brothers have an illusion of a private conversation, without stepping out of earshot. Even though she'd been _hoping against_ it, she'd been waiting for this conversation since they'd made it out of the convent.

Sam had trusted a demon over everyone else. Over _Dean_. Betrayal wasn't even a start to what she was sure Dean was feeling.

Still, a part of her had been hoping for the _forgive and forget_ option.

"What can I do?" Sam asked, looking just as painfully hopeful as Chloe felt.

"Honestly?" Dean shook his head. "Nothing. I just don't…I don't think we can ever be what we were, you know?" He hesitated, and Chloe waited for the fallout. "I just don't think I can trust you."

He walked away, leaving Sam alone, and Chloe stuck between them. _We are broken._

To Be Continued…

* * *

**A/N:** Even though Chloe is now more fully "in" Supernatural, I won't be rewriting every scene from the episode just to put her in it. Instead, I'll rewrite the scenes where I believe her input is most important. Other than that, this series will continue as it always has, with a collection missing scenes from each episode. Crossing Kansas: the ultimate collection of deleted scenes. ;D

And since it _is_ a bunch of deleted scenes, watching SPN first comes in handy. If you haven't seen the premiere, the flow of this story probably won't make sense. I don't include everything.

Just a forewarning, my homework is slowly starting to increase as I get further into the school year. I'm sure this goes without saying, but homework comes before this series. So, if need be, I may be going on a writing hiatus over the course of the season. If I do, I'll post something about it on my LJ.

Also, just a note on Chloe's powers. IMO, she can heal others, but can't necessarily heal herself (with the exception of the whole coming-back-from-the-dead-thing). My reasoning: she was beat up pretty bad in "Sleeper" but didn't heal her wounds.


	54. Webisode: Bad Timing 2003

**A/N:** Alright folks, I know I only made it to one new episode, but I've gotta put myself on a writing hiatus. I'll still be watching SPN and plotting, but the writing takes up too much of my precious, precious homework(and sleep) time. I'm _very_ sorry to have to do this so soon. I can't tell you when I'll be done with this hiatus, but, until then, I've got some webisodes I never posted.

Hope that can tide you over until I return. I'll post these about once a week, like regular episodes.

Again, sorry! See you when I'm sane and homework free. :D

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**Summary: **_It was just a matter of __time__ timing. _Five times Chloe could have met the Winchesters (and Crossing Kansas wouldn't have happened). Chapter 1/5

**_

* * *

-2003-_**

Her column was called _Sullivan's Travels_, but at sixteen, she wasn't allowed a wide range of travel. In fact, if she could keep it inside the metro area, her editor was happier, and she wanted to keep her editor happy. Honest. Even if she had Lionel Luthor backing up her column, she didn't want to earn a bad name at the _Planet_.

After fighting with Clark, though, she decided she needed a break. She needed to get away before she let slip the secret of Clark's whereabouts. If she told anyone where he was hiding in Metropolis, he'd run. She couldn't be the reason he ran further from his loved ones. She wouldn't take on that responsibility.

So, she needed to get away. It was time Sullivan did a little more traveling. There had to be something strange and unexplained outside the state. Anything to distract her from Clark and his stupid game of hide-and-don't-find-me.

When she heard of a mysterious murder in Nebraska, she decided it was her break. No one on staff cared enough about the story to investigate. They all deemed it a suicide, but Chloe wasn't so sure. Something was off.

She wasn't the maintainer of the Wall of Weird for nothing.

::

Dean chanced a glance at his dad across the booth. He was frowning, which wasn't all that surprising, but it was the way he was frowning that unsettled him. "Something up with the case?" he asked around a bite of hamburger.

"Don't talk with food in your mouth," John said, instead of answering.

Dean nodded, swallowed and tried again. He knew this mood his dad was in. He also knew it had nothing to do with the case. It was a ghost hunt. There wasn't much that could upset his dad about a ghost hunt. But he asked anyway, because he knew better than to ask what was _really_ wrong (_Sammy, betrayal, family loyalty, "Don't you dare come back!"_).

"Dad?" he pressed, dropping his burger back onto his plate.

"We should go. It's getting late and the sooner we get done the sooner we can leave." John pushed his plate away, looked from Dean's half-empty plate to his face and quirked an eyebrow. "You done?"

"Yes sir."

::

"Is this the first time a death has occurred in Mr. Nelson's house?"

Chloe hesitated outside the sheriff's office, listening to the conversation going on inside. It sounded like a journalist, and he was asking about _her_ story. She frowned as she waited for a response. She thought every other reporter had written the story off as a suicide. Why were there reporters asking about it three days later?

"Do you mean: did Mr. Nelson ever murder anyone beside himself?" the sheriff asked, sounding torn between amusement and annoyance.

"Yes, but also before Mr. Nelson. Is there any history of death in that house?" the reporter corrected.

"No. No deaths. The house is relatively new and the last owners were all young and all still alive as far as I know."

"Good to hear," the journalist answered. A chair was pushed back and Chloe stepped away from the door, sensing the end of the conversation. Without waiting for the journalist to say his goodbyes, she turned and walked out of the police station, deciding she'd try an interview later. She knew from experience that police didn't enjoy talking about a case to multiple journalists. She'd give the sheriff a day to rest from the media then catch him the next day.

And in the mean time, she could investigate the house. She smiled at the idea of digging around the late Mr. Nelson's home. It wasn't so much that she enjoyed breaking and entering. It was simply that she enjoyed the thrill of investigating restricted areas.

As she wandered down the street towards her car, she noticed a large, black car parked next to her small Bug. A man was leaning against the hood, scowling slightly at the police station.

He was young, about Lex Luthor's age, she'd guess. The frown on his face aged him, though. She wasn't sure she wanted to know what could age a young man like him. Probably more tragedy than even she'd seen in her life.

She avoided his gaze as she passed, hoping he wouldn't say anything to her. Growing up in Metropolis (and freak-zone Smallville) had taught her how to behave around strangers, but there was something about the man that unsettled her.

As she slid into her car, she realized he was watching her. Before she could look away, he smiled nice and easy, and she felt herself relax. With a small smile in return, she started her car and drove away, putting him in her rearview mirror.

She didn't have time for his smiles. She had a story to investigate.

::

The EMF meter was quiet as he and Dad wandered through the house. If there was a spirit, it wasn't showing up. His dad stopped suddenly, shooting him a silencing look. Dean nodded and listened. Someone was moving around in the next room.

He brought up his shotgun, knowing Dad was doing the same. On a silent count of three, Dad threw open the door and they charged in, guns aimed.

The small blonde inside jumped, throwing her hands in the air. "Don't shoot," she pleaded, looking between the two of them. Her gaze lingered on Dean's face and she frowned as her hands lowered.

Dean lowered his gun a little and studied her face in return. It took a second to recognize her, but he knew she was the girl he'd seen leave the police station earlier that day. He'd sensed trouble the moment he'd spotted her, but he never would have guessed she'd mess with their hunt.

John stepped forward, his gun still raised. "This is a crime scene." He swept the area with his weapon. "You shouldn't be here."

"I'm a reporter," she argued, holding up her press badge. "I'm working on a story."

"In the middle of the night?" Dean asked, cocking an eyebrow.

She shrugged. "Less chance of getting caught." She opened her mouth to continue, but hesitated when she saw her breath float in front of her.

"It's here," Dean said unnecessarily, his EMF meter finally going off. He made a mental note to examine the piece of equipment later.

"Get out," John ordered, gesturing for the girl to move to the door.

Before she could, it slammed shut, and Dean didn't have to check to know it wasn't going to budge. He moved to her side, putting himself between her and the rest of the room. "What are you…" she trailed off as the spirit flickered to life in front of them.

Together, he and John shot, dissipating it with rocksalt. The girl squeaked at the gunfire and moved back against the wall behind her. "Did you kill it?" she asked, looking between them with wide eyes.

"No," John answered simply.

She blinked, but nodded. "Oh."

The spirit showed again and this time, John shot it while yelling for Dean to get the girl to safety. She didn't protest as he grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the room then out of the house. In fact, by the time they reached the front lawn she just looked curious.

Dean mentally cursed, knowing that look almost as well as he knew his dad's irritated look. It was reporter's curiosity. Curiosity about the supernatural.

That never ended well.

"No comment," he grumbled.

She just cocked an eyebrow.

::

"So, what else is real?" Chloe asked as John dropped the match and the corpse went up in flames. She screwed up her nose at the smell, but stayed put. If the two men could handle the smell she wasn't going to back away. Besides, she had the—as Dean had deemed it—important task of holding the flashlight.

"A lot," Dean answered. "Except unicorns."

"Hilarious." She frowned and ignored the amused look in his eyes. "And you two hunt this stuff."

"What does it look like?" he asked, gesturing to the burning corpse.

"It looks like grave desecration," she said, enjoying the way the amusement left his face. She could play the wit card too.

John looked up at her words, fixing her with a hard glare. "I think this interview is over."

Hint taken. She nodded and handed Dean back his flashlight before grabbing her bag. "So how do I get a hold of you?"

"You don't," John answered.

"And if I've got a ghost problem?" she pressed.

Dean exchanged a loaded look with his dad and shrugged. "Bobby Singer. South Dakota. Look him up."

She nodded, but remained where she stood. "Are you sure I can't get a last name?"

Dean smirked, physically pointing her in the direction of her car. "Try me once you've graduated high school, Sweetheart."

Chloe rolled her eyes as she walked away. "Not likely," she mumbled, marching off into the darkness of the graveyard. When she neared her car, she turned and waved at the two men. "Thanks for saving my life, by the way."

"Stay out of haunted houses," John called back.

_Yes sir._

::

_Two years later, John will disappear, leaving his son to seek out the only family he has left. Together, they will cross the country, fighting evil, saving people, and pulling pranks. The usual._

_In Smallville, a young reporter will continue her research into the weird and unexplained, adding supernatural to the list. She'll meet new hunters, ask questions, and find herself deeper in the hunting world. Eventually she'll lose her column because of its "fictional" content, and no amount of Luthor influence will save it._

_Being fired (and a little help from Lex) will save her from her deal with Lionel. She will quietly find her way out of Lionel's interest and continue her research into the supernatural._

_She won't testify against him, he won't have her blown up, Lois Lane won't come to town, etc. etc._

::

_Dean will forget about her months after their encounter._

_Chloe will always remember him and his father._

_They won't meet again._

::

_Also, unicorns will never be real._


	55. Webisode: Bad Timing 2005

**A/N:** Sorry I couldn't update this sooner. Oy with the reading!! Anyway, I'll just post the last four chapters at once. Enjoy :D

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**Summary: **_It was just a matter of __time__ timing. _Five times Chloe could have met the Winchesters (and Crossing Kansas wouldn't have happened). Chapter 2/5

* * *

**_2005_**

Sam resisted the urge to look at his brother. Again. He knew Dean noticed every time he studied him from the corner of his eye. If he looked again, he was going to start a fight. Though, at least if they were fighting there would be some sort of speaking going on. Dean had been silent since they'd left Lawrence hours earlier.

With a sigh, Sam settled his head against the window, watching the flat landscape pass quickly. He couldn't really blame Dean for being silent. He had a lot to work over in his mind.

He closed his eyes, bringing back the image of his mother's spirit. She was beautiful. More beautiful than the pictures had ever portrayed. All his mother had ever been to him was a handful of pictures and Dean's fractured memories. Seeing her whole—or mostly whole—and standing in front of him had been a bigger shock than anything he'd experienced before.

He could only imagine what seeing her had done to Dean.

"What was in that box Jenny gave you?" he asked, deciding he'd had enough silence. The longer he stayed silent, the longer Dean had to build his walls back up.

Dean shrugged, keeping his focus on the road ahead. "Pictures of us." He reached into the back seat and grabbed the box, tossing it onto Sam's lap. "I guess they got left behind."

Sam opened the lid, blinking down at a picture of Dean as a child, holding him as a baby. "Yeah, I guess so," he agreed, letting silence cover them again.

He didn't know what to say, anyway.

* * *

Most mornings, going to college and working at the _Daily Planet_ wasn't a problem. Chloe had always been a multitasker. She thrived on having too many things to do and not enough time to do them in.

Some days, though, all she wanted was a cup of coffee and a break.

She took an appreciative sniff of her coffee before drinking, enjoying the feeling of the warm liquid travelling down her throat. It was one of those rare days where her homework and _Planet_ work were all done, and all she had to do was enjoy the coffee in her hands.

And she was going to enjoy it as long as she could, because she knew the day wouldn't stay calm. Days never did. Not for her. Not in Metropolis.

The door to the coffee shop dinged, announcing a new customer, and she looked up, watching two men walk inside. She almost smiled, taking in their attractive faces then hesitated when she studied the short-haired man. He looked familiar, but she wasn't sure why.

She was pretty sure she'd never seen the man before, and she was definitely sure she'd never seen his friend.

Realizing she was staring, she dropped her gaze back to her drink, letting them pass unnoticed. If he was someone she knew, it would come to her. In the mean time, she sat, listening to them order their drinks then stand in silence waiting.

She chanced another look when the silence passed longer than she expected, and found the familiar, short-haired man watching her. He smiled when she looked up and she smiled back. The familiarity only grew with his smile, and she grasped for a name.

His smile slid into a flirty smirk and she realized why that look was so hard to recognize. It had never been directed at her before.

She was staring at Jason Teague, or at least, a man who looked scarily similar to him.

Her smile fell from her face and she returned her gaze to the mug in front of her. Jason was dead. She'd seen the body when it had been extracted from Clark's meteor-wrecked home last spring. That man in front of her couldn't be him.

* * *

Dean pursed his lips and turned back at his brother, when the pretty blonde looked away. It had been quick, but he could have sworn he'd seen disappointment in her eyes before she'd dropped her eyes to her drink. Apparently she wasn't good at reading a smile.

He mentally shrugged as his drink was set in front of him. He had some time to teach her.

And he could use a little distraction from the last few days.

"Find a table, Sammy," he ordered, scooping up his coffee cup and moving towards the blonde's table. "I'll be back."

Sam frowned and looked to where he was headed. "Dude," he hissed, gesturing with his cup. "We got these to go."

"So?" Dean shrugged and continued to his destination. She looked up before he could reach the table, her eyes widening in surprise. "This seat taken?" he asked, attempting another smile.

She shook her head and kicked the chair out. "Nope." Her eyes wandered the small coffee shop and stopped when they spotted Sam. "What about your friend?" she asked.

"He likes to drink his coffee alone," Dean lied, watching the way her green eyes flashed with curiosity when they returned to his face. "My brother's kinda strange like that."

"Brother?" she questioned as if the idea of him having a sibling were impossible.

"Yep." He nodded, pulling the cap off his drink and taking a small sip. "He's Sam. I'm Dean."

The blonde took his offered hand, still studying him. "Chloe." Her gaze dropped to his hand wrapped around hers, before returning to his face. "Are you from out of town?"

Dean resisted the urge to squirm under her curious gaze. There was something about the way she was studying him that didn't sit well with him. He was starting to regret coming to her table. "Just passing through," he answered. He caught his brother's gaze over her head and silently ordered him to come over. "But we couldn't drive through Kansas without stopping in Metropolis."

"Exactly," Chloe agreed. "So you've never been here before?"

Yeah, he was _really_ regretting sitting down. She didn't want to flirt. She just wanted to ask questions. She couldn't even ask the questions in a flirty manner. She was matter-of-fact as she spoke, as if conducting an interview. "Haven't been in the state for years," he said, searching for her press pass.

Sam arrived then, offering Chloe a smile. Dean watched as her gaze shifted from curiosity to something softer. Sam's innocent charm had won her over. Dean couldn't even feel jealous, he was just relieved. She'd only asked two simple questions, but it had been the way she'd watched him while he'd answered that had him itching to leave.

She was grasping for something and he was pretty sure he didn't want to know what.

"Hey Sam. Ready to go?"

* * *

Chloe made it to the front door of the _Daily Planet_ before it finally clicked and she was left scrambling inside to her computer. Her search drive offered up a long list of potential hits, but she was only interested in one.

_Dean Winchester. Murder. St. Louis._

There had been a reason his face had looked familiar, and it wasn't the fact that he could pass for Jason's brother.

She swallowed her disappointment and picked up her phone, knowing if she didn't call she'd regret it later. Sure he'd smiled and attempted to flirt, but that didn't mean he wasn't capable of murder.

And, she was pretty sure he'd been packing.

* * *

Sam paced the small space of his motel room, wondering how long it would be before he wore a hole in the cheap carpet. He'd been pacing and brainstorming for hours and he still had no plans. Short of charging the police station and demanding they release his brother, he didn't know what he was supposed to do to help Dean.

His brother was stuck in jail, and all Sam could do was pace.

His dad wasn't any help. He was off God only knew where, avoiding his children. So it was up to Sam to save his brother from jail, before Dean got tried for the St. Louis murder.

* * *

Dean let out a long breath and flopped back on the small cot, deciding he'd rather count the cracks on the ceiling than stare at the walls.

As he counted, he replayed everything he'd done in the last day, trying to figure out what could have possible tipped the cops off. He remembered overly curious, green eyes, and glared. That was the last time he flirted with a pretty girl in a coffee shop.

A knock on his cell door pulled him from his thoughts. "Winchester," a female voice barked and he sat up, frowning at the face through the small window on the door. "Ready to talk?" she asked.

"Do I have a choice?"

The woman, Maggie something he remembered, shook her head. "No."

"Awesome."

* * *

_Two days later, the coroner in St. Louis will confirm that the body buried in town was legit and, apparently, Dean Winchester's. But by that time, Dean will have vanished from his jail cell, never to be seen again until his next unfortunate run-in with the cops._

_The anonymous source who called in Dean Winchester's whereabouts will follow his story all the way to St. Louis. She'll take one look at the identical copy of his body lying in the morgue and remember a girl from high school that could change to look like anyone she wanted._

_She'll then wonder which one was the copy and which one was the original. And if either had anything to do with Jason Teague._

_Years later, when an article announces a body stolen from a Smallville morgue, the brothers will investigate. They'll learn quickly that the body is Chloe's and that she is very much alive._

_They'll leave town immediately._

* * *

_Dean will spot her twice from a distance, and never say a word._

_Chloe will slowly forget about him and Sam as her life continues to become more extraterrestrial._

_Sam will never forget._

* * *

_And, after a whole month of resisting, Dean will once again flirt with women in coffee shops._


	56. Webisode: Bad Timing 2006

**Summary: **_It was just a matter of __time__ timing. _Five times Chloe could have met the Winchesters (and Crossing Kansas wouldn't have happened). Chapter 3/5

**_

* * *

2006_**

"Dean. Dean? Dean!"

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother, oblivious to anything but his music and vibrating bed. He grabbed a piece of the rock-hard candy hearts and lobbed it at Dean's forehead. Bull's-eye.

Dean sat up with a grunt and glared at Sam. "What?"

"Happy Valentine's Day," he mused, holding up the box of candy hearts.

His brother huffed. "Funny." He brushed the candy onto the floor and made a show of grounding it into the carpet. "I think those are a few years old. And it's not even Valentine's Day anymore."

"So? They're still good for ammunition." Sam set the box back down and turned his laptop so Dean could see the information on the screen. "I've got a case. Demon, I'm pretty sure."

Dean stood up eagerly. "Why didn't you say so, Cupid?"

* * *

_Man goes nuts and kills his girlfriend of five years. And I'm on the story, because I need to remind myself that my life could be worse_, Chloe mused as she shook her head. Her press badge was in place and her notebook was ready, she just needed to get to investigating and she could completely forget about a certain photographer back in Metropolis—and his constant jealousy of Clark Kent.

Sometimes, she was grateful she was so low on the press totem pole, because it allowed her to leave and pursue her own stories without worrying about being missed in the office.

The front door to the murderous boyfriend's house opened before she could reach it and she paused, watching two men in suits walk out. They both spotted her and slowed, the short-haired one offering her a flirty smile. "Good evening," he greeted with a tip of his none-existent hat.

She smiled back and put herself in their path, blocking their exit. "Are you working on this case?" she asked, keeping her tone light.

"Yes ma'am." He gave her a brief once-over, his gaze lingering on her press badge. "We can't answer any questions at this time."

She frowned and stepped forward, looking up at the taller man. He wasn't smiling at her like he was mentally undressing her. He was just watching. She could handle that. "What's there to question? The man murdered his girlfriend in cold blood. Seems to me, the case is pretty easy to report on."

He shook his head. "Nothing's ever that simple."

"Well, what else could it be?" she pressed. "It was really the boyfriend's evil twin?"

"No, we already—" the taller man shot his partner a glare, silencing him.

"We'd be happy to answer questions later, but now just isn't the time. Not in the middle of an investigation."

Chloe nodded, but remained in her spot, sensing something off. "Can I see your badges? Gotta have sources, right?"

The taller man smiled tightly. "Right."

* * *

When the reporter—Chloe Sullivan, according to her press badge—showed up at their motel room, Sam was more worried than surprised. He'd been expecting a visit from the reporter, since they'd left her on the steps of the possessed man's house. There had been something in her eyes that had warned him of a possible repeat appearance.

"You two aren't cops," she stated as soon as he opened the door. She frowned up at him before moving inside. "I should turn you in."

"And yet, you're here," Dean pointed out from his spot across the room.

Chloe's frown deepened. "That's because I have questions that need answers, and I think you two are the only ones who can answer them."

"So, we're no good to you in jail?"

"For the moment, no."

Sam held up a hand, halting the verbal sparing between Chloe and Dean. "I don't know what we can tell you."

She cocked an eyebrow and returned her attention to him. "How about the truth? I interviewed the boyfriend, and, while I know murderers lie, I get the feeling there's more to this case than just a crazy boyfriend." She paused as if reading his expression. Sam tried his best to remain neutral. "You said that nothing's ever simple."

"Trust me," Dean started, moving to stand beside Sam. "Izack Palmer killed his girlfriend."

She nodded and Sam felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe she'd finally drop the investigation—

"True, but does it count if he wasn't in control of his body at the time?" she asked, cutting his hope off at the knees.

Sam faltered and shared a look with his brother. He was used to reporters giving them a disbelieving glare and demanding the truth. No matter how much evidence they were faced with, no reporter had ever come to the supernatural conclusion on their own—if they ever did. And yet, Chloe had done just that. "Wasn't in control?" Sam questioned, deciding he'd misunderstood and she was simply implying Izack had had some sort of mental breakdown.

"He was possessed," Chloe answered simply.

_Crap._

* * *

"So, demons are real?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Dean shook his head, looking between Sam and Chloe as they talked. The way they sat at the room's small table, comparing notes and shuffling papers, they looked like they were studying for a test, not discussing possessions.

He still couldn't believe they were giving Chloe the_nightmares are real_ speech. Unless they came face-to-face with evil, he and Sam liked to keep civilians in the dark (figuratively, of course). Though, there wasn't much they could do when the civilian was asking specific questions about their case. Chloe already had the case figured out. She just needed them to fill in some key details.

And Sam was more than happy to help.

"Wow," Chloe breathed. "And I thought ghosts and witches were bad enough."

Dean perked up at her statement, his attention momentarily diverted from the gun in his hands.

"You've dealt with ghosts and witches?" Sam asked, voicing Dean's question.

She nodded. "And been possessed by both."

"_Christo_," Dean muttered, earning a glare from Sam.

Chloe frowned. "What?"

* * *

The man writhed and screamed, and Chloe clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out with him. The entire scene gave her the chills, and she wanted to leave, but knew she wouldn't.

For the most part, the brothers had sounded honest as they'd told her about demons and possessions, but she had to see for herself that they weren't lying. And so far, she had no reason to doubt their words. The man was clearly possessed, if his black eyes were any indication, and the words Sam was speaking were definitely Latin.

She kept her hand clamped over her mouth until Sam was done and the demon was expelled. She'd been possessed three times in her life, but she'd never seen anything like a demon exorcism.

Before she could collect her thoughts, Sam moved to her hiding spot and looked down at her like he'd known she was there the entire time. "You can come out now," he assured, offering his hand and a small smile.

She accepted both and stepped into the dark room. Her eyes wandering from the design on the floor—devil's trap—to the unconscious man bound in the center of it. "Is he dead?" she asked, realizing her hand was still wrapped in Sam's when he felt him squeeze reassuringly.

"No."

Chloe squeezed back as the man took a stuttering breath.

* * *

"We can stay a little longer," Dean bargained, watching Sam as he watched Chloe.

Sam shook his head. "No. We should go."

Dean shrugged, deciding against an argument. "Alright. I'll be in the car. Don't take forever, okay?" he teased.

Sam ignored him as the motel door opened and Chloe stepped out. Dean made his way to the driver's seat, leaving the reporter and his brother to say their goodbyes.

From the rearview mirror, he saw them exchange notes—those two geeks and notes; it was sad—then hugs. Chloe said something that made Sam smile, and Dean felt himself open up a little more to the nosy reporter.

They had to leave, but they'd be back. Sammy needed to smile more.

* * *

_Two months later, the brother's will return, reuniting the reporter and the younger hunter. They'll talk, laugh, and grow closer, sharing stories of supernatural experiences. A bond will form and grow, offering a new ally to the sibling duo._

_Histories will be shared, secret powers revealed, and a certain demonic-figure's plans will slowly unravel. The reporter will forget about her broken heart courtesy of a certain photographer. The brothers will hunt down a couple of werewolves without either getting attached. Investigating and hacking skills will come in handy when the brothers face Hendrickson in jail._

_But on his last visit, Sam will vanish, leaving behind sulfur, questions, and a scene that will remind Dean of Ava's bloody bedroom. Dean and Bobby will do their best to track him down—neither mentioning the reporter that would have been a help in the search._

_They'll find him in a ghost town, moments too late to save him._

* * *

_Dean will make a deal for his brother's life and never look back—though he'll make a point of paying his respects to her grave before his year is up._

_Sam will return with grief clouding his senses, before he even learns the truth about the woman he'd held before vanishing._

_Chloe will not stand in the way of the yellow-eyed demon's plans for the apocalypse, despite—or thanks to—her early intrusion into the brother's lives._

* * *

_In spite of all that, Sam will smile again. Dean will make sure of it._


	57. Webisode: Bad Timing 2008

**Summary: **_It was just a matter of __time__ timing. _Five times Chloe could have met the Winchesters (and Crossing Kansas wouldn't have happened). Chapter 4/5

**_

* * *

2008_**

"I'm engaged."

Dean blinked at the piece of blue plastic as it was flashed in his face. "Engaged?" he repeated, grabbing her hand and studying the ring. It looked like something out of a vending machine. She had to be joking. Maybe it was her idea of playing hard to get.

She pulled her hand from his grip and nodded stiffly. "Yeah. So…" She made a shooing motion with her hands and returned her attention to the coffee in front of her.

"If I go get you a ring from a Cracker Jack box, will you reconsider? Maybe give me a name?" Dean snarked, shifting gears from flirt to annoyed. He didn't expect every woman he smiled at to fall at his feet (honest, he didn't) but the blue, plastic "engagement ring" was a little weak.

The blonde glared, and he actually felt her become completely turned off. "It's the thought that counts with my fiancée. And he has another ring for me, it's just getting sized."

Dean resisted the urge to ask if the other ring had one of those candy diamonds on top, and stood, instead. "Congratulations. He's a lucky guy," he said stiffly, before walking away.

He felt her eyes on him as he left, and shook his head. "Women."

* * *

"This town blows, man," Dean complained as he marched into their motel room and set a cup of coffee in front of his brother.

Sam looked up from the newspaper, cocking an eyebrow. "Strike out?" he guessed, knowingly. His brother had a wounded-pride look in his eyes, and he could only assume it resulted from a failed pick-up.

"She wasn't worth it," he grumbled, tossing his coat on the closest available surface.

"Uh-huh."

Dean just frowned, daring him to say anything else.

Sam sighed. "You picked the place. It was either Metropolis or Smallville, and since you vetoed Smallville. _Again._ We're stuck here."

"Hey, if you want to go play in Crazyville, be my guest. I'd rather stay out of a town that even seasoned hunters avoid. Missing corpses, or not." Dean sat down across from his brother and gestured to the paper in his hand. "So, figure anything out? What kind of creature are we dealing with?"

"Don't know yet. It could be a siren, or a succubus, or maybe just a vengeful witch." Sam pulled out another news article and showed Dean. "But whatever it is, it's moving. Its victim trail goes from Metropolis to Smallville—"

Dean frowned.

"—back to Metropolis."

"Indecisive?" Dean asked wryly.

"Deadly," Sam corrected.

* * *

Chloe played with her engagement ring, ignoring the taunting voice in her head. Jimmy would come back. It was just a little fight. They're love meant more than a note she'd written to Clark years before.

_"If I go get you a ring from a Cracker Jack box, will you reconsider?"_

She winced as the plastic ring caught, pinching her finger. The guy at the coffee shop hadn't been the first one to comment on her ring, but there was something about his tone that made her more defensive than normal. So what if it was a plastic ring? Nothing about her relationship with Jimmy had ever been normal. Why should her ring?

Besides, she liked its uniqueness. It stood out. Not many girls could say their engagement ring came from a machine.

Not that many would want to say that.

She huffed in frustration, and opened another file of pictures. She wouldn't let the leather-clad, smirking stranger get to her. She was just feeling off because of her fight with Jimmy.

She'd be fine once they made up.

And once she got a different ring.

* * *

Sam scanned the club's crowd, searching for any clues of a supernatural creature. Another body had been found just outside the Ace of Clubs, and he had a feeling the creature was nearby. The room was filled with men who fit the victim profile. It was just a matter of catching the creature before it struck again.

Across the room, Dean moved through the crowds, his EMF meter held discreetly as he scanned all the females (and some males, just in case). They still weren't sure what kind of creature they were dealing with, just that it had to be something supernatural.

The men were dying of endorphin overloads. They're bodies were producing higher levels of endorphins than any human could normally produce. Sam had a feeling they were dealing with a succubus, but he couldn't be sure. So far, they'd found no traces of demonic activity, or any supernatural activity, really.

They were running into dead-ends without a lead in sight.

Sam hated the hunts where they had to just hit-and-miss until they stumbled onto a clue. It meant they spent more time looking for the creature and less time saving people. Someone else could die and they didn't have any idea how to stop it.

"I see you're the only one here that's all alone. I think you're the man that I've been looking for."

Sam's attention shifted to a man a few barstools ahead of him. A beautiful red-head stood in front of him, offering a flirty smile. He almost looked away, deciding he didn't need to see the poor guy attempt flirting, but paused. Something about the woman's expression was off. There was something more than simple flirtation in her eyes.

"You've been looking for me?" the man asked, looking surprised.

She nodded and stepped closer. "Dance with me."

Sam moved forward, pulling out his EMF meter as he neared the new couple. Neither noticed as he swiped the thing past the woman, before tucking it back in his pocket. Nothing. No reading at all.

Frustrated, he watched the couple move to the dance floor. There was something off about that woman. He knew it.

He caught his brother's gaze from across the room and indicated the woman. Dean nodded slowly, but continued searching the crowd.

Just in case.

* * *

"You better be right about this, Sam," Dean said. They watched discretely as the red-head and her dance partner made their way to the balcony. "I really don't want to watch Magoo fumble his way through another smooth line…"

Sam held up a hand, silencing his brother. "Even if she isn't our killer, there's something wrong with that woman."

"Yeah, she's hot and hitting on _that_," Dean complained, gesturing to her partner.

"You'd rather she was hitting on you?" Sam asked. "She could be dangerous."

Dean shrugged. "Gotta lose it somehow, Sammy."

"Lose what?" Sam asked, knowing he probably didn't want to know.

Dean wagged his eyebrows. "My virginity."

Sam wanted to argue—remind him that his virginity _was_ lost and no amount of searching was going to bring it back—but the couple was pulling back from their liplock, and it didn't look good for Magoo. "Dean."

"Let's move," Dean agreed, reaching for his gun as they hurried onto the balcony. He turned for the woman, moving to aim his gun, when she suddenly vanished with a whoosh of wind. "…the hell," he mumbled, spinning as if he could find her hiding behind him.

"Dean!" Sam called and he spun, frowning at his brother, who was staring at him in confusion.

Magoo had vanished too.

"I repeat: …the hell?"

* * *

Chloe took tentative a sip of the hospital coffee as she walked back to Jimmy's room. It was going to be a long night and she'd need the caffeine, even if it only came flavored with motor oil.

"Can you describe the woman?"

She hesitated outside Jimmy's room, listening to the voices inside. It sounded like a cop, a pair of cops. And she knew the second voice.

Her cup of motor oil forgotten, she marched into the room, frowning up at the man she'd last seen staring at her engagement ring in obvious disbelief. "Can I help you officers?" she asked, drawing out the title 'officer' sarcastically.

If they were feds then she'd never been infected by a meteor rock.

"We were just conducting a small interview," the taller man explained. "We'll be done in a moment, and you can have your boyfriend back."

"Fiancée," she corrected, not bothering to hold up her ring. She really didn't need a repeat performance from earlier.

The guy she recognized from the coffee shop frowned, looking between her and Jimmy. His eyes held the same disbelief as earlier, and she resisted the urge to yell. "Really?" he asked. "Him?"

"Hey!" Jimmy argued.

Chloe gestured to the hall, offering Jimmy a tight smile. "Outside, please."

Without argument, the two "officers" followed her out of Jimmy's room, standing before her obediently. "You know, the ring suddenly makes sense, if he's the one who proposed."

Chloe glared at the man's mocking tone. "Look, I know you two aren't cops. So what do you want?"

"Who says we aren't cops?" Mr. Disbelief asked.

Chloe just looked at him.

"Okay," his partner held up a hand. "We're here investigating the recent string of deaths. And so far, your fiancée has been the only one to survive the mystery woman's deadly kiss."

"You're investigating?" Chloe questioned. "What, like some hobby? You two dress up like cops and run around trying to solve mysteries of the weird and unexplained?"

The man nodded. "Sure, something like that. We're trying to help."

"Well don't worry about it. This mystery has been solved," Chloe said. "And you two better leave, before I get you arrested for impersonating a cop."

They exchanged glances, speaking without words, and Chloe tried not to feel left out. After a beat, they nodded and turned to go.

Before moving away, Disbelief paused and leaned forward as if to share a secret with her. "You two don't belong together," he whispered then followed his partner down the hall.

Chloe turned and watched him leave, ignoring the way his whisper lingered in her hair. Taunting.

* * *

"No more bodies. Whoever she was, the seductress has been stopped."

"You think your blonde friend had anything to do with it?" Sam asked, looking over at his brother from his spot on a bed.

Dean shrugged, flipping through the newspaper in front of him. The case was over, so it was time for a new one. "Probably. Don't know how, but she seemed pretty sure of herself."

"Yeah." Sam agreed as a knock sounded at their door.

Dean stood and looked through the peephole, before opening the door, shooting his brother an uncertain look as he did.

"You've got a lot of nerve," a woman's voice declared, before Dean's "blonde friend" charged into the room.

"Nerve?" Dean repeated, backing up as she moved forward.

"I love my fiancée, and I don't need some wannabe detective telling me who I belong with."

Dean smirked, shooting a glance at Sam. "You tracked me down just to tell me that?"

She seemed to deflate at his comment, shaking her head. "No, I…" she trailed off uncertainly. "I don't need someone trying to sabotage my engagement."

Dean stepped forward. "I'm not trying to sabotage anything. I'm just telling you what I think. And I think you can do a lot better than him." He shrugged. "But it's just my opinion. Take it or leave it."

She glared, but Sam saw something shift in her eyes. She opened her mouth to argue then closed it again, staring down at the plastic ring on her finger. Without another word, she turned and exited, leaving Dean to stare after her, looking torn.

"I'm right," he mumbled, after a beat. "She doesn't belong with him."

"How do you know?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head, returning his seat and grabbing the newspaper. "I just do."

* * *

_Two hours later, Chloe will still be thinking about Dean's words and trying to ignore the growing hesitation in her gut. She'll play with her ring until the cheap band snaps, and her certainty with it. The resulting conversation with Jimmy will be the couple's undoing, ending their relationship months prematurely—and without the complications of a divorce._

_Sad, but not necessarily heart-broken, she will look to take her emotions out on the only other person she can think to blame._

_Luckily, the Dean will still be in town._

_Accusations will fly. Dean will smugly state he was right about Chloe and Jimmy, resulting in more heated words. Which will quickly lead to Sam vacating the room before he sees something he doesn't want._

_He'll sleep in a separate room that night._

_Far away from his old room and any possible…noise._

* * *

_Dean will keep a fond—very fond—memory of the feisty blonde, but the impending apocalypse will make it impossible for any repeat performances._

_Sam will set a goal, making sure his brother and the blonde meet again, but won't succeed, for one reason or another._

_Chloe will never forget the leather-clad, smirking stranger, but will eventually let herself be drawn to a different kind of hero._

* * *

_But, more importantly, Dean will have lost his virginity. Again._


	58. Webisode: Bad Timing 2010

**Summary: **_It was just a matter of __time__ timing. _Five times Chloe could have met the Winchesters (and Crossing Kansas wouldn't have happened). Chapter 5/5

**_

* * *

2010_**

The sky was blue, birds were singing, and Chloe figured that was pretty impressive considering what had happened only months earlier. Actually, the sky and the birds were expected, it was the fact that they'd never stopped that impressed her.

The apocalypse, _the_ Apocalypse, had arrived on earth almost a year earlier, and she hadn't noticed. More importantly, she hadn't been part of it. There had been no extraterrestrial threat, no state-wide blackout, nothing. Just blue skies and birds still singing.

There was something wrong with that.

Beside her, her cell rang, announcing a call from one of her boys. "Tell me you've got something," she answered.

"We've got something," came the response, and she smiled. Finally.

The Apocalypse had arrived almost a year earlier, and she hadn't noticed, but that didn't mean she wasn't doing anything now. She had to make up for lost time.

"I'll take it from here," she said, before hanging up.

* * *

She'd met Bobby Singer a few months earlier. A chance encounter in the middle of Nowhere, South Dakota that had nothing to do with their respective professions, but later, when she'd encountered a man with black eyes and a sulfur-scented aftershave, she'd remembered the man with the baseball cap and knowledge of demons. He'd slowly crept his way up her speed dial since then.

"You've got something," Bobby said in greeting. He stepped back and let her enter his old house. It hadn't been homey or cheery the first time she'd walked inside, and now, months later, it was even less so.

"Sighting, outside of Portland, Oregon. I haven't seen the evidence yet, but my guys think it might be him."

"The fire and brimstone gave him away, I bet," Bobby said wryly. It was meant to be a joke, but it fell flat, or at least his tone did. "Thanks. I'll look into it."

"And what about me?" Chloe asked, frowning up at the older man. He looked like he'd aged years in the few months she'd known him. She was starting to believe the same thing about her own appearance.

"You need to keep yourself safe."

Chloe hated that response. She'd been getting it since she'd stumbled over her first meteor rock. Her only responsibility was to keep herself safe, yet, everyone around her had no problem with her putting her life in danger as long as she got them information. Once the information was given, though, she needed to go back to hiding. "No way." She shook her head, and moved to block his path as he started to walk away. "I'm helping you with this."

"'_This_' is dangerous."

"Yeah, I got that memo last year. I may not have been inside a church in years, but I know who Lucifer is. I know what he's capable of. And I also know that I'm not letting you handle this on your own," Chloe stated. "If you're taking down the Devil, I'm helping."

Bobby looked ready to argue, but paused, reading her face. He must have seen something in her eyes too stubborn to break, because he finally nodded. "Fine. But if you get killed, it's on your head."

* * *

It turned out the Devil was nothing like the red, horned cartoon from pop culture. There was no tail or pitchfork. Nothing to make him stand out, really. So, in the end, he had to come to them. Apparently, even the Devil got bored of waiting for people to find him.

"My team's ready," Chloe announced, pocketing her cell again and walking to Bobby's side.

He looked up from his shotgun. The time for researching was over, now the only thing left was the fight. "Yeah? Did you brief them on demons and how to survive this kind of battle?"

"They're ready," she insisted, picking up her own shotgun.

"Are you?"

"The world's ending, Bobby. Does it matter, if I'm ready?" Chloe countered.

Bobby shook his head and stood as a knock sounded at their motel door. "That'll be _my_ team," he supplied, offering her a tight smile. He opened the door and two men walked in, spotting her instantly and shooting Bobby a questioning gaze.

"This Chloe?" the shorter one asked.

Chloe took her cue and stepped forward, offering a hand. "Chloe Sullivan."

"Dean Winchester," the man supplied. "And my brother, Sam."

Chloe remembered their names from the stories she'd heard spreading around during the last few months. No matter where she looked into the Apocalypse, the Winchesters showed up. She knew the role they had played, and the role they _would_ play. She just hoped they were ready for it.

"Ellen called in all the contacts she knew, and they called their contacts. We've got a group of hunters ready and waiting," Sam informed, gesturing outside. "They all know the plan, we just need to start."

Chloe cell buzzed and she flipped it open.

_In position.  
-Arrow_

"My team's set," Chloe said.

"Hope your Robin Hood has silver-tipped arrows," Dean commented.

Chloe nodded. "Of course."

"Good." Dean nodded then stepped closer so he was looking down at her. His expression demanded cooperation. "You stay with him. Your team goes in second. We take the front."

Chloe knew better than to argue.

* * *

The events following the Apocalypse had made wannabe hunters out of a lot of civilians. Demon possession had doubled, because the black-eyed monsters got cocky, and, as a result, more people found themselves face-to-face with the things in the dark.

There were a few courses of action when faced with the _Truth_, and more people had decided to pick up the rocksalt instead of hide in denial.

Dean wanted to be grateful for the backup they'd been getting. The newbies busied themselves dealing with lower-level demons, so the seasoned hunters could handle taking down their leader. Most times, though, Dean was just irritated by their recklessness. They wanted to fight, and they thought all they needed was a flask of holy water and determination.

Their help ended up being more dangerous than helpful.

Bobby had already vouched for Chloe, so Dean could only hope she wasn't one of the dangerous newbies. She was still going to stay behind, just in case. He didn't need her and her team of super-mutants getting in the hunters' way.

They might be there to help, but inexperience and the Apocalypse didn't mix.

"Hey, Dean."

He turned at Chloe's voice, offering her a greeting smile as she walked into Bobby's library. The place had always had a sense of organized chaos to it. That day, though, it just looked messy. She stepped around a pile of books and moved to his side, looking out the window he'd been gazing through. "So, this is what it's like."

"What what's like?"

"Being a hunter. Waiting for the things in the dark to attack. Putting all your faith in condiments and a dead language." She smirked slightly at her last statement, attempting humor.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I guess. It's not a life you choose for fun. It's hard work."

"I believe it," she agreed, returning her gaze to the outside world.

Dean let the conversation drop, matching her position as they watched clouds form in the distance. One last peaceful moment before his showdown with the Devil—and he was spending it with a woman he'd only met an hour earlier.

"Excuse me," he mumbled, stepping back. "I'm going to see what Sammy's up to."

"Okay," she said, watching him walk away, without argument. "Hey Dean," she called, before he could step through the doorway. When he turned, she smiled. "Good luck."

"You too."

* * *

"Think she'll listen to you?" Sam asked as he and Dean drove off to meet the rest of the hunters.

Dean shrugged, glancing at Bobby's house in the rearview mirror. "No clue. She's a hard woman to read."

* * *

"Do you know our cue?" Ollie asked. He stood ready with the rest of their small but powerful team. The hunters had just charged, leaving the superheroes to wait on the sidelines. And Ollie wasn't the only one getting antsy.

Chloe glanced at her watch, but didn't really note the time. "Let's go," she decided. Dean Winchester might be mad at her disobedience, but she really didn't care. She didn't owe him anything but her help, and she couldn't give that from the sidelines.

"'Bout time," Bart declared, charging ahead with a burst of speed.

"Hope he remembers the exorcism," A.C. said as they watched him leave. "He could spit out twenty of those under a minute, if he tried."

Chloe nodded as she slid onto the back of Oliver's motorcycle. "Ready?"

"Ready."

Together, the team moved into the fray, and Chloe prayed they weren't too late. The hunters hadn't been fighting for long, but she knew it didn't take long for disaster to strike, especially not when the Devil was involved.

Ollie's motorcycle sputtered to a stop as soon as they got close enough to see the fight. "What the…" Ollie tried the engine again and cursed when it didn't start.

"It's the demons," Chloe informed. "It'll be fine later. Let's go." From the outside, it looked like the hunters had the upper hand, but the opposite could just as easily be true at the front lines. She slipped off the bike and grabbed her weapons, shooting Ollie a look before moving ahead.

The exorcism was memorized, her shotgun was ready, and she even had a canteen of holy water attached to her hip. She didn't have the experience the other hunters had, but she hoped what she had would be enough.

* * *

There was a flash of blinding white light and an impact that sent everyone to the ground. Even those in the back, felt the effects. Chloe threw up her hands, covering her eyes as her body was pushed back.

_It's over_, she thought, still not knowing who'd won.

* * *

The Apocalypse came and went without so much as a news flash, and Chloe decided that was more impressive than the blue sky and singing birds. Even her cousin, the biggest newshound at the _Planet_ hadn't noticed the end of the world come and go.

It was for the best, no need to panic the public with events they couldn't have controlled. It kept chaos to a minimum, and the lives of hunters under the radar. Sometimes, though, she wished some information had been leaked. At least then, there would have been a way to honor those whose lives had been lost.

The final battle had been shorter than expected, but, in a way, no one had been surprised. Nothing about the final battle had been expected, after all. Lucifer had been a guy with soft eyes and a friendly smile, and he'd made his final stand in front of an old playground—not exactly what they portrayed in movies.

True to his word, Dean and his fellow hunters had headed the first charge—the only charge that had really mattered. Chloe had heard about Dean's role as the slayer of Lucifer, but she'd had her doubts. There was no way one man could kill the Devil.

And, in a way, she'd been right. It had been _two_ men who'd defeated the ultimate evil. Two brothers.

She looked down at the obituary she'd just finished and smiled. It wasn't enough, but it would have to do.

_History won't remember them, but we will forever be in their debt._

* * *

_Two weeks later, a headstone will be set up in small cemetery in Greenville, Illinois, paying tribute to the brothers who had paid the ultimate sacrifice to save mankind. The benefactor will decide the brothers would have appreciated their headstone being placed beside their mother's. It won't be much, in comparison to all they'd done for the Apocalypse, but it will be all she'll be able to give._

_On the outside, humanity will carry on as if nothing had changed, but in cities across the country, new hunters will spend hours training for more fights against the darkness. Old hunters will step up to help the new generation, deciding it's time the fight is shared._

_Not much will change, but the fight against evil will continue just as strong._

* * *

_Dean never really got to know the woman who could have meant more to him than any other female before, but he went out with his brother at his side, so he had no complaints._

_Sam never formed a lasting friendship with the reporter who could have been the link between him and his brother even during the worst times, but, in the end, he still found his way back to his brother and that was all that mattered to him._

_Chloe never grew close to the two men who could have opened her eyes to the supernatural and accepted her into their small group, but she still learned about the things in the dark and dedicated her time protecting those who were ignorant._

* * *

_Despite everything that could have been and never was, Chloe will still see the Winchesters as heroes._


	59. Split Front

**A/N:** Yay! I finally had a break in homework, and managed to write a chapter. Unfortunately, my break ended quickly and the homework has built up again. Sorry! I hope you can enjoy this until I get another chance for a new chapter. :D

* * *

_Before…_

"What can I do?" Sam asked, looking just as painfully hopeful as Chloe felt.

"Honestly?" Dean shook his head. "Nothing. I just don't…I don't think we can ever be what we were, you know?" He hesitated, and Chloe waited for the fallout. "I just don't think I can trust you."

He walked away, leaving Sam alone, and Chloe stuck between them. _We are broken._

_

* * *

Now…_

It had been days and Bobby wasn't getting any better. His tough statement that he'd _heal the old fashioned way_ didn't mean much when he was still stuck in a wheelchair. Chloe wanted to help him, she could almost feel her powers itching to be used, but he'd been firm in his statement that he didn't want her help. No matter how much it killed him to be stuck in a wheelchair, he wasn't willing to risk her wellbeing.

She wanted to argue with him and point out that the side-effects of her powers were never permanent, so why should healing him be any different? But Bobby was nothing if not stubborn, and he wouldn't listen to her argument.

Besides, she still wasn't completely sure how the powers worked. It wasn't as if she'd had much opportunity to practice with them before being possessed by Brainiac, and it had only been a little over a week since she'd realized the powers were back.

Chloe blinked in surprise, sitting up in the chair she'd been attempting to relax in. She still couldn't believe it had only been such a short amount of time since the moment she'd healed Dean's wounded forehead and realized her powers were still active. So much had happened.

And they were still dealing with the side-effects.

She looked up, sensing someone in the doorway. Sam raised his eyebrows and gestured for her to join him in the hallway. She shot Bobby a look, before standing and walking out. The older hunter had been distant for almost as long as he'd been in the hospital, and he made no acknowledgment of her departure, which was fitting since he hadn't even blinked at her arrival.

"Still nothing?" Sam asked, as soon as she was in the hallway.

She nodded, looking back at the man in the wheelchair. "I wish I could help him." She crossed her arms. "I _can_ help him."

"But Bobby will never go for that. Hell, I'm not sure I'm all that keen on the idea," Sam pointed out.

"It's my powers, my decision," she argued stubbornly.

Sam smiled wryly. "And when you tried that argument on Bobby he said…"

"No way," Chloe supplied. "Stubborn man."

Sam moved closer to her and rested a hand on her back. "It'll be okay."

"Sure," Chloe agreed lightly. "But will _he_ be?"

* * *

"No way. It's dangerous."

"That argument is _really_ getting old, Dean."

"So? It's still true."

Chloe glared, standing nearly toe-to-toe with Dean. "True or not, I'm still going with. I am not going to just sit around while the world ends." As soon as the words left her mouth, she winced and turned to Bobby who was sitting next to them, still stuck in his wheelchair.

The hunter didn't seem to notice the unintended dig at him, only nodding in agreement. "She should go, Dean. She can handle it. And if it's as bad as Rufus said, you could use all the help you can get. Hell," he groused, "if it weren't for this thing, I'd be going too." He gestured to the wheelchair in annoyance.

Dean looked from Bobby to Chloe then shot his brother a quick glance over his shoulder. Sam just raised his eyebrows, silently telling Dean to make the decision.

"Fine," he said, after a beat. "Just don't…" he hesitated and Chloe softened her glare. "Just don't be reckless."

She smiled, resting her hand on his chest, against the space where his necklace used to hang. "Don't worry. That's your job, remember?"

* * *

The street had been deserted since her last trek out on the possessed town. No sign of life. No sign of Jo. Ellen took a deep breath, demanding herself to focus. If Jo was out there, she needed to stay focused.

Footsteps sounded up ahead and she paused, listening. There were too many of them to be Jo and Rufus. As she waited, the small party stepped out into her line of sight, oblivious to her semi-hidden position. She recognized the two men instantly—the Winchesters were pretty hard to miss—but the woman with them wasn't familiar. Considering how many people in town had become possessed she wasn't taking any chances. Last she'd heard, the boys hunted alone. Some extra person with them, a small woman who reminded her too much of Jo no less, didn't seem normal.

She stepped out from her hiding spot and cocked her gun, aiming for the woman. A stranger was more than likely the demon leader, and it was easier to aim her loaded gun at someone other than the brothers.

All three turned at the sound of her gun, and the woman's eye went wide when she realized it was aimed at her head.

"Ellen?" Sam asked, at least he _looked_ like Sam.

"Hello boys," she said coolly, keeping her attention trained on all three, but her gun trained on Blondie. When none of their eyes went black, she took a step forward and thrust holy water in the woman's face. The blonde sputtered and moved back, running a hand over her wet face.

"We're us," Dean assured, resting a hand on the woman's shoulders.

Blondie flicked at her wet bangs. "I swear to _Christo_," she muttered wryly.

Ellen nodded then moved past them, headed back towards the base. They could continue this conversation somewhere else. The street wasn't safe.

Without question, the trio followed her back to the church. She didn't stop until she was inside the doors, past the salt and devil's trap. Once all four of them made it inside without the two demon wards affecting them, she stopped and faced them again. Dean stood behind her, looking expectant and she let her guard down momentarily. "It's real good to see you boys," she stated, pulling him into a strong hug.

It had been too long since she'd heard a thing about either of the Winchesters. Last she'd known, Dean's deal had come due and Sam had all but vanished from the hunting world. It wasn't until Rufus had mentioned both brothers that she'd realized Dean had somehow managed to come back from Hell.

As soon as she stepped back from her hug, she slapped Dean across the face, letting her annoyance out with the slap and a sharp lecture.

"I'm sorry, Ellen," Dean managed, once she took a breath.

"Yeah, you better be. You better put me on speed-dial, kid," she finished. No matter what history her family shared with the Winchesters, she still cared for the brothers. She wasn't going to let them just disappear again.

"Yes ma'am," Dean assured.

Ellen relaxed a moment then finally acknowledged the other member of their small group. "You're a hunter?"

Blondie shared a look with Dean then nodded. "Yes ma'am," she said. "Chloe Sullivan."

"Ellen Harvelle." She offered a tight nod in greeting, which Chloe returned. With that, Ellen turned and continued to the church basement. Time for introductions was over. They had work to do.

"What's going on, Ellen?" Dean asked as they followed her lead.

"More than I can handle alone."

* * *

_"Alright, you stay. We'll go."_

Sam walked out into the hallway with Dean, sensing Chloe following behind. "You stay," he said, looking pointedly at her.

"Actually," Dean cut in. "Why don't you both stay. I'll just go and get the weapons and get back."

"Alone?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, someone's got to stay here and give them Shotgun 101," Dean explained.

"Ellen can handle that," Sam reasoned.

Next to him, Chloe nodded in agreement. "Ellen and I can handle the gun class. You two should go."

"I can handle it," Dean argued, looking between the two of them.

Sam looked skeptical. "You're going to get guns, and salt, _and_ look for Jo and Rufus?"

"Yeah," Dean agreed, his expression betraying his hesitation, but it wasn't towards his task.

Chloe crossed her arms. "Dean, be reasonable. Take Sam with you. It'll go faster."

Sam frowned, realizing what was really going on. "You don't want me going out there. Around demons."

"I didn't say that," Dean defended, looking to Chloe briefly as if she would back him up. Sam glanced down at the small blonde and saw skepticism in her expression, only it was aimed at Dean. She had drawn the same conclusions as Sam.

"Be safe, you two," she ordered, gesturing for them both to leave, effectively making the decision for them.

With a small frown at Dean, Sam turned and headed up the stairs. He tried not to be hurt by his brother's distrust. Dean had told him flat-out that he wasn't sure he could trust him anymore.

It still stung, though.

* * *

"When did you start hunting with them?"

Chloe looked up from the shotgun she was loading and found Ellen looking at her expectantly. "Off and on for a little less than a year, I guess. Dean's usually not too keen on me joining them. I'm mostly just their go-to for research."

"You've known them for a while?" Ellen continued, taking a seat across from Chloe.

She nodded, setting the gun aside and focusing on the older woman in front of her. "I ran into them during one of their hunts about two years ago. Despite initial distrust, we ended up as each others contacts."

"Two years ago?" Ellen repeated thoughtfully. "Before or after the Devil's Gates?"

"After," Chloe answered. "Though not long after." She wasn't sure what she could say to the woman. She didn't know how much Ellen knew about Dean's deal and the ending result. "I investigated some demonic possessions after the gates opened, and that's how I ended up back in the Winchester's circle."

Ellen studied her and Chloe knew she was debating the same thing: how much knowledge she was willing to share. "How long have you been hunting?" she asked finally.

"A little less than a year," she mused, knowing the woman would get the connection.

"Those boys started you hunting?"

Chloe scoffed in amusement. "If Dean had his way, I never would have started hunting, but I can only spend so much time at Bobby's before I decide to pick up the trade." She recognized an argument forming in Ellen's eyes and held up a hand, before she could speak. "It's a dangerous trade, I know. Trust me, I've never taken hunting lightly, and I'm definitely not doing this for fun. But, I'm way too involved in this to not help."

"Reporter," Ellen decided knowingly. "Just couldn't drop the story, could you?"

"No ma'am," Chloe admitted with a wry smirk. "Investigating is in my blood."

She nodded and paused thoughtfully for a moment. Her gaze flickered down to the shotgun Chloe had been loading then back to her face. "Those are good boys, they've trained you well, I'm sure. Just, do me a favor?"

"Yeah?"

"Watch out for them," Ellen said. "Winchesters carry more baggage than most hunters I've met, and that baggage ends up being more trouble for them than anyone else."

Chloe smiled in understanding. "I know exactly what you mean."

* * *

_"Can I talk to you for a second?"_

Chloe watched the brothers step out into the hallway. They'd returned with weapons a little over an hour earlier, and she had sensed the tension between them ever since. While keeping part of her attention on the Winchesters, she returned to the shotgun and nervous girl, Autumn, in front of her. Carefully, she unloaded the weapon then handed the ammo and weapon to her. "Try it again," she encouraged. "You've almost got it."

Autumn nodded and did as she was told, successfully reloading the weapon. Chloe smiled proudly, but a sudden noise outside the door cut off her words.

She looked up and noticed Sam's stressed face in the doorway. He was clearly glaring at Dean. "Excuse me," she muttered then hurried to the hallway, pulling the door closed behind her. Both brothers looked over at her when she arrived and she offered them a falsely cheerful smile. "Something wrong?" she asked. "Because, I think your little spat is making people jumpy."

"Nothing's wrong," Sam argued, shooting his brother a sharp look. "Ellen and I are going to go look for Jo and Rufus. You and Dean are going to stay here and make sure these people are ready to run."

Chloe looked over at Dean expecting an argument, but the older Winchester didn't say a word, just brushed past her and returned to the room, leaving Sam and Chloe alone.

"Sam?" Chloe pressed.

He looked down at her and shook his head. "It's nothing, Chloe."

"Doesn't look like nothing," she said.

"He's just worried about me." He frowned, guilty. "And my addiction."

Chloe nodded in understanding, wanting to assure Sam, but she just couldn't make herself say the words. Instead, she stepped closer and grabbed his forearm. "Just watch yourself out there," she said, putting as much meaning into that statement as she could.

"I will."

* * *

"So, what's up with you and Dean?" Ellen asked, once she and Sam were outside of the church. Last place she had seen Jo was down the road a bit. The older woman apparently thought it was enough distance to inquire about Sam's problems with Dean.

She was going to need a whole lot more road to cover their problems.

Sensing Sam's hesitation, Ellen continued. "It's hard not to notice, how different things are between you guys these days." Sam stayed quiet, and Ellen drew her own conclusions. "This rift wouldn't have anything to do with that pretty blonde you have in your group, would it?"

"Chloe?" Sam verified then shook his head. "It's not Chloe. We're both just stressed, in general. You know how stressful hunting can be."

"Sure do," Ellen agreed. She caught his eye briefly, before returning her attention to the scenery around them. "So, if Chloe isn't the sore spot, what is she? I didn't think I'd ever see the day you and your brother took on a partner, much less one with so little experience."

Sam's mouth quirked in amusement. Ellen was right. In any other situation, the persistent blonde would have been dumped in her hometown and ignored. But with Chloe? Things had been different. "I didn't think we would either," he admitted. "It just sort of happened. We couldn't seem to just put her town in the rearview mirror and move on, like we normally do."

"She seems like a pretty hard person to ignore."

"She is."

* * *

Dean managed to pace the length of the church's basement twice, before Chloe grabbed him and pushed him into a vacant chair. "You're making me nervous," she quipped, offering him a tight smile.

He didn't return the smile, just watched her. "You think this is what it's going to be like from now on?" he asked finally.

"I think it's going to be worse," she admitted, motioning to the group of scared refugees.

Dean looked down at the table. "That's not what I meant," he said, thinking about his brother off on his own with Ellen and the fight they'd had before. Things were unraveling fast.

Chloe swallowed. "I know."

A moment later, Ellen burst in without a very important person in tow. "Where's Sam?" Dean demanded, watching the older woman turn to him wearily. She didn't say anything, just shook her head sadly, _they took him_.

A familiar sense of determination welled up inside Dean and he reached for his shotgun then headed for the door. Sam was out there with a group of demons. He needed help. "Everybody sit tight, I've gotta…" he trailed off, realization hitting him hard. He felt a hand on his arm and looked down at Chloe was standing next to him, her eyes saying everything he was thinking. Sam wasn't the only one in trouble.

"We need to get a plan together," he said carefully, and Chloe nodded in agreement, squeezing his arm. _He'll be fine_, her eyes assured, but he knew she couldn't give that kind of assurance.

* * *

"It's all kinda weird, right?" Ellen asked, after relaying the events that had led up to Sam getting nabbed by the demons. She could tell it was stressing Dean to just sit there in the basement and try to figure out a plan. She knew how he felt. Her daughter was out there, possessed by some demon and she couldn't do a thing (without being reckless) about it.

"The whole things off," Dean agreed, and Chloe nodded, looking thoughtful.

"What's your instinct?" Ellen asked, posing the question for Dean.

"My instinct?" Dean repeated. "My instinct is to call Bobby and ask for help. Or Sam." He paused then looked at Chloe, who raised an eyebrow. "You'll do," he said finally, and she smirked.

"I've been out there once. I know less than you two," Chloe argued, but Ellen could tell her mind was working, processing something. She had the same look in her eyes that Ellen had seen a number of times in other hunters. She was fitting what pieces she had together, waiting for other pieces to show up.

Dean nodded then turned back to Ellen. "Did Rufus say what specific omens brought him to town?"

"Just said something about water," Ellen admitted, wishing again she'd been able to get more information from the man.

"Water? Padre? You know what she's talking about?" Dean asked.

The priest moved over to where they were sitting and nodded. "The river ran polluted, all of a sudden."

"When?" Chloe asked.

Austin, the soldier, stepped forward. "Last Wednesday. The demon thing started up the next day."

"Anything else?"

"Shooting star, that count?" Austin asked. "Real big, same night."

Ellen eyed Dean who looked like he'd just realized something. "That definitely counts," he said, standing suddenly and heading for the bookshelf. He grabbed a Bible and returned to his seat, moving to flip it open, but Chloe spoke before he could.

"And the name of the star was Wormwood, and many men died," she quoted, looking startled.

Ellen stared at her. "You've memorized the Scripture."

"Research," Chloe said. "And only Revelation."

"Revelation 8:10," the priest added. "Are you saying this is about the Apocalypse?"

"Unfortunately," Chloe agreed. Ellen watched her, surprised by how matter-of-factly she seemed to be taking everything. Most hunters she knew were more freaked by the end times they were in, and they had been in the profession much longer than the young blonde.

Ellen mentally shook her head. Chloe may seem more experienced, but she didn't look any older than Jo. _What have the Winchesters gotten you into?_ she thought.

Moments later, Roger returned, and she stopped worrying about Chloe's experience and just focused on running for her life.

* * *

Chloe watched from the second floor window as the priest was shot in the chest. Before she could completely plan her next move, she was hurrying down the stairs, barking a _stop firing_ at all the hunters she passed, and hurrying to the fallen clergyman. Ellen and Autumn were already stationed over him, putting pressure on his wound, but Chloe wasn't sure how helpful that was going to be.

"Let me," she ordered, leaning into their space. Ellen caught her eye and she met her gaze unblinking. "Trust me," she pleaded, before laying her hands on the wound. Her hands started to glow, and the other woman gasped in surprise.

"What are you doing to him?" Autumn asked, semi-hysterical.

Chloe didn't answer. Couldn't answer. Her powers were working and all she could think about was the man in front of her.

Next to her, Ellen studied the scene incredulously and answered for her. "She's healing him."

* * *

"That was a little too easy, yes?" Dean asked, holding up War's bloody ring. "He just dropped the ring and ran?"

"Looks like," Sam said, though he felt just as uncertain as Dean looked. If War was really that powerful, a little finger dicing shouldn't have deterred him. "Let's get back." He wiped at the blood on his face. "Check on the survivors."

Dean nodded and led the way back to the house Rufus and Jo had been stationed in. "Four Horseman," he muttered as they neared the house. "I can't believe it."

Sam shook his head in agreement. "Welcome to the Apocalypse," he stated as they neared the house. It looked quiet for the moment, but that didn't mean much. They rounded the bushes and Dean stopped short, Sam almost running into his back.

"No," Dean muttered then hurried to the body in front of him.

Sam stayed a step back, taking in the scene. No more shots were being fired. The demon-hallucinogen had worn off, but not fast enough, it seemed. His brother was kneeled in front of Chloe's body, and above them stood the priest, the blood-stained hole in his shirt a testament to what had happened.

"She healed me," the priest said, meeting Sam's curious gaze and confirming his suspicions. "It was a miracle."

Dean let out an annoyed grunt as he scooped Chloe's lax body in his arms. "It wasn't a miracle, Padre. It was meteor rock." With that, he turned and marched into the house, cradling Chloe against him as he did.

Sam hurried to catch up, ignoring Chloe's pale face. He'd seen it before, but that didn't make it any easier. "She'll heal," he reminded, unsure if it was for Dean's benefit or his.

"She better," Dean shot back sharply.

* * *

Ellen had never seen a resurrection before, but for some reason, when Chloe took in a breath and sat up, she didn't even blink. _That's not natural_, she thought, watching the Winchesters swarm the newly revived hunter.

Dean's tone was sharp as he reprimanded her using her powers, but his eyes betrayed his true feelings. Sam just sat beside her, his hand covering her smaller one as the worry in his eyes finally faded. Between the two of them, Chloe rolled her eyes gently and assured them she was fine.

Ellen knew almost nothing about the new hunter in the Winchesters' circle, but she could see her importance. She had a feeling she'd be hearing from Chloe again.

* * *

"I'm in no shape to be hunting."

Chloe shook her head, feeling helpless as she watched the brothers in front of her. It felt like the moment outside the hospital all over again. _"I don't think we can ever be what we were, you know? I just don't think I can trust you."_ The brothers were falling apart and she was helpless to stop it. Dean didn't trust Sam.

Sam didn't trust Sam.

And Chloe was waiting for the final fallout.

"I need to step back, 'cause I'm dangerous," Sam continued. Dean looked torn, but didn't say anything, even as Chloe mentally willed him to say something. "Maybe it's best we just go our separate ways."

Dean didn't hesitate, but he didn't look at his brother either. "Well I think you're right," he agreed, and Chloe flinched.

There it was. The final break.

"Don't do this," Chloe muttered, even as Sam stood up from the picnic table. "Please," she added.

Dean shook his head, but it was Sam who argued. "I need to trust myself, before I can expect others to trust me. You'll hunt better without worrying about me." If he was waiting for confirmation or denial from Dean he wasn't going to get any. His brother just dropped his gaze to his hands.

"Take care of yourself, Dean," Sam said then turned to Chloe. "You too, Chlo'."

She just nodded wordlessly and it was Dean who finally spoke. "Yeah you too, Sammy."

She watched Sam walk away before turning to Dean. "I can't believe you just let him go."

"I spend too much time worrying about him, instead of worrying about how to do the job right," Dean argued. "It's better this way."

"You don't mean that," Chloe stated, hoping she was right.

Dean didn't argue, just pointed to Sam. "You should go with him," he said bluntly, and Chloe blanched.

"You don't trust me either?"

He shook his head. "No, but until Sam gets his head back in the game, he's going to be on his own."

"And if I go with him, _you_ will be on your own," Chloe pointed out, looking back over her shoulder were Sam stood, pulling his bags from the Impala.

"I have Cass," Dean said, his tone neutral, but his face betraying him. He didn't think that was an even trade: Castiel for Sam.

"Dean…" Chloe started, reaching forward to grab his hand.

Dean met her gaze carefully and pulled his hand from hers. "Take care of him, Chloe," he said, ending the debate.

* * *

With a sudden kiss and watery eyes, Chloe hurried from the picnic table, leaving Dean alone with his decision. He watched her call out to Sam as she pulled her own small duffel from the backseat of the Impala.

Sam looked at her in confusion and they shared a few words Dean couldn't hear then they were gone, hopping into the truck of a local and driving off down the road.

_"It's better this way."_

_"You don't mean that."_

To Be Continued...


	60. At Home

_Before…_

"I spend too much time worrying about him, instead of worrying about how to do the job right," Dean argued. "It's better this way."

"You don't mean that," Chloe stated, hoping she was right.

Dean didn't argue, just pointed to Sam. "You should go with him," he said bluntly, and Chloe blanched.

"You don't trust me either?"

He shook his head. "No, but until Sam gets his head back in the game, he's going to be on his own."

"And if I go with him, _you_ will be on your own," Chloe pointed out, looking back over her shoulder were Sam stood, pulling his bags from the Impala.

"I have Cass," Dean said, his tone neutral, but his face betraying him.

"Dean…" Chloe started, reaching forward to grab his hand.

Dean met her gaze carefully and reached up to squeeze her hand. "Take care of him, Chloe."

* * *

_Now…_

"Home sweet home," Chloe joked as she stepped into the motel room.

Sam followed behind and closed the door. "Nicer than some places I've been," he said conversationally. He tossed his backpack onto the bed and turned to her. "You going to head out right away?"

"The sooner I get going, the sooner I can get back," she said then sat down on his bed, not really in a hurry. She still wasn't comfortable leaving Sam alone, not so soon after he and Dean had parted ways. He needed someone, and she was it. If she left… "I don't have to go yet, if you don't want," she offered.

Almost two weeks earlier, when she'd shown up at St. Mary's Convent to stop Sam from killing Lilith it had been in the arms of Bart Allen. The speedster hadn't asked any questions, just dropped her off and bolted to deal with his own Doomsday-shaped problems. She had been grateful for the quick trip at the time, but now she missed her car and the more than a week's worth of clothing she could fit in its trunk. She could only live so long on Dean's credit card scams. _And now that we're on our own…_ she mused, catching Sam's gaze.

"As long as I get to a Laundromat, I'll be good for a while longer," she continued, plucking at the shirt she was wearing. It had been through the wash twice already.

Sam shook his head, sitting down beside her. "I'll be fine. I saw a help wanted sign in a bar nearby. And, you should check on your friends from home. It's been a while, right?"

She nodded sheepishly. "Is it bad to say that I almost forgot about them after everything that happened?"

"I think Lucifer rising and confronting War qualifies as a good excuse," Sam assured wryly.

Chloe smiled at him then leaned forward for a brief hug. "I'll be back soon, I promise," she said then stood and moved to the door. "And you better pick up if I call."

Sam chuckled. "Yes ma'am."

* * *

Dean flipped open his phone, made it all the way to his contacts and Chloe's name, before flipping it shut again. It hadn't been long since they'd gone different ways. They probably needed more time to settle into…whatever they were doing. _Sammy probably found a job as a librarian_, he mused.

He sat back in his bed and flipped on the TV, ignoring the distinct lack of another person in the room. _"And if I go with him, you will be on your own."_ Chloe had pointed out. But Dean was fine alone.

Really.

* * *

It didn't take long before Chloe ran into a familiar face in Metropolis. Part of the city was still in disrepair from Doomsday's earlier attack, but the parts she needed were still standing. "Chloe?" Jimmy called as she neared the _Daily Planet_'s entrance.

She stopped, waited for him to catch up and felt her eyes widen at the cut she saw along his jaw. "Jimmy what happened?"

The photographer ran a finger along the older wound. "Everyone's got their scars from the day that monster attacked." His face fell serious. "Chloe, it was Davis. Davis was the monster. He's the one that's been killing people in Metropolis and Smallville."

"Davis?" Chloe repeated, though she'd known the truth for a while. Davis was Doomsday.

"Yeah." Jimmy nodded and moved closer. "I mean, I knew the guy was bad news, but when I saw him transform into that _thing_… He attacked downtown last week and some heroes tried to stop him. The Blur, I think, the Green Arrow, and some others. I don't know how successful they were, but the monster hasn't shown up again. At least not yet."

"The Blur and the Green Arrow, together?" Chloe asked, smiling despite herself. Apparently Oliver had recruited another team member, during her absence.

"Yeah. It was pretty awesome. Aside from the whole destruction of part of the city, that is." Jimmy frowned thoughtfully, watching her. "Where have you been?" he asked. "I would have thought all of this would be old news for you."

"I've been out of town," she admitted. "With friends."

Jimmy pointed a finger at her, attempting teasing and falling short. "You're doing that cryptic thing again," he observed. "Does this have anything to do with Clark?"

"Clark? No, it's not about him. I was just out of town, helping some friends deal with the hell in their life." She curled her lip at the bad joke. "Actually, I was just swinging through Metropolis to say hi then I need to hit the road again."

She started for the _Planet_ doors, but Jimmy stopped her with a soft hand on her arm. "Chloe," he started, hesitating briefly before continuing. "I promise I'm not going to pry—it's not my right anymore anyway—but just stay safe with whatever you're doing. Okay? I know how you throw yourself into things."

She smiled in understanding. "I'll be safe, I promise. I really am just helping out a friend deal with a crisis. It's more counseling than dangerous investigating."

"Alright." Jimmy gestured towards the doors. "Let's go inside. Lois is probably inside, ready for round three with anyone who crosses her path."

* * *

"Clark's gone?" Chloe asked from her position seated on Lois's desk.

"Yeah." Lois kept her attention on the computer screen in front of her. "He apparently had to go find himself. Right in the middle of the biggest story of his career." She rolled her eyes. "Of course."

"Aw, Lo' you don't miss him, do you?" Chloe teased, receiving a jab in the leg for her words.

"I'm perfectly fine without Smallville, thank you very much."

Chloe slowly arched an eyebrow. "'Perfectly fine'?" Her cousin was terrible at denial, especially when it came to her feelings for the men in her life. Feeling charitable, she brushed off her cousin's weak statement and changed topics. "Anything else in the news world?"

Lois studied her. "You mean besides that monster tearing apart the city?"

"Yeah," she said, with a nod.

There was a pause, while Lois continued to study Chloe as if dissecting her words. "Since when do you come to me for the news, Chloe?" she asked finally. "You've always been two headlines ahead of me."

"I've been busy," Chloe admitted. "I've been out of town and out of touch."

"I know," Lois said, fixing her cousin with a stubborn frown. "Thanks for that, by the way. You're lucky I was distracted watching the city fall apart, or I would have been hunting you down. Where have you been?"

Chloe had been waiting for that question. "Remember Sam and Dean, the brothers I introduced you to?"

Lois's frown softened to a wry smirk. "You've been with those two this whole time? Wow cuz."

"Not like that, Lois," Chloe said, rolling her eyes. "I've been on the road with them, helping them deal with a family crisis."

"And now?"

"Now, I'm staying with Sam. He and Dean decided to give each other some space, but Sam needs someone right now." Chloe looked down at her lap, anticipating her cousin's response.

There was a pause, and she looked up to find Lois studying her. "Are you sure it's 'not like that'?" she asked. "Because, I know you and those guys are close, but moving in with him? That's a big step, Chlo'."

"Not really," Chloe argued, knowing it was a lie. "You're just worried because you're losing your roommate, right?"

Lois shook her head, a smile tugging at her mouth. "You've been out of town more often than not lately. I don't know if I'll even notice when you move out."

"Thanks," she mused. "Hopefully, this won't be permanent. I don't see Sam and Dean staying apart too long."

Lois stood and pulled Chloe into a tight hug. "Take care of yourself out there. And tell me if you need anything, okay?"

Chloe returned the embrace. "Promise."

* * *

As soon as her foot stepped off the curb outside the _Daily Planet_, a motorcycle pulled to a stop in front of her. She jumped at the sudden appearance then shook her head at the driver. "Nice driving, Victor. Did you learn that from Oliver?"

The half-cyborg reached back and pulled an additional helmet from the seat behind him, offering it to her before speaking. "I could teach Oliver a trick or two."

"What's going on?" she asked even as she pulled the helmet on.

"Watchtower's back in town," Victor answered, gesturing for her to climb on behind him. "I figured she needed to be filled in."

"There's this new invention, it's called a phone. You may have heard of it," she teased as she slid onto the bike and held on. She was on guard as soon as she wrapped her arms around his torso. He was tense. Something was wrong. "What happened?" she asked.

In response, Victor revved the engine and took off, driving them through the busy streets as fast as possible. They were stopped again, before Chloe could come up with any possible answers to her question, her mind too focused on Victor's tense posture and lack of response.

"Vic, what is it?" she repeated as she stepped away from the motorcycle and pulled off her helmet.

Victor took it back and nodded towards the building behind her. "Let's go inside first. I've got something to show you."

"I'm not walking into a trap, am I?" Chloe teased as she followed Victor into the tall building. It looked familiar, but she didn't know what was inside. As far as she knew, the building was empty.

Victor led her into an elevator. "Like you'd fall for that," he mused, once the doors closed behind them. He pressed the button for the top floor then turned to her. "Remember Oliver's place in the clock tower?"

Chloe nodded, still curious.

"Well this is an upgrade."

"Oliver upgraded?" Chloe asked, surprised. She knew Oliver had money to spare, but upgrading from the large loft he rarely used to an even larger one seemed a bit superfluous, even for him.

"We upgraded," Victor corrected as the elevator door opened. "Oliver decided it was about time our team had a decent headquarters."

Chloe opened her mouth to respond, but stopped when Victor pushed open the large double doors in front of him. The room beyond looked like someone had ransacked a Best Buy. "Whoa," she mumbled, stepping inside and looking around.

"That's what I said the first time I saw it, too."

Chloe turned, hardly surprised to see the rest of Oliver's team standing in front of her. "Nice place," she said in greeting.

Oliver nodded, but it was Bart who stepped forward, smiling. "Welcome to the Watchtower, Watchtower."

* * *

The bar owner was in his fifties, grey hair lining his temple and scattered throughout his beard. Sam found himself reminded of Bobby and swallowed the dull pang of familiarity. If he couldn't make it through a simple job interview—for a busboy position of all things—there wasn't much hope of him surviving the world outside hunting.

"So Keith," the man started, looking up from Sam's application. The sheet of paper held a list of references and previous job experience all of which were fake, not unlike the name at the top of the application: Keith Jacobs. Sometimes it paid to know a woman who could create and destroy identities with a click of her mouse.

"All I'm really interested in is whether you can keep my bar clean," the owner finished.

Sam nodded. "I can handle it."

"Good, you're hired."

* * *

"You split Doomsday from Davis?" Chloe interrupted, eyes widening at the information.

Victor nodded. "Yes."

"And?"

"It didn't matter," he admitted, his face growing dark for a moment. "The man was just as evil as the monster."

Chloe shook her head in disbelief. "Davis…" she started, but hesitated. There was nothing she could say that would deny Victor's statement. There had been a time she would have defended Davis. Back when all she'd known about him was that he was kind, saved people, and looked great in a uniform. Back before she'd learned the truth of the darkness inside him—the darkness he'd apparently failed to control.

"Davis was twisted, even as a human," Oliver stated.

She nodded slowly, not letting herself dwell on the what-ifs. Her life was too full of them. "What happened to him?"

The team hesitated, making her dread the answer. "He's dead," Dinah said finally, looking to Oliver.

Chloe followed her gaze, watching Oliver's eyes lower briefly. "We tried to save him, but he was already broken beyond repair," he said by way of explaining.

She wanted to press for details, but decided against it. That was information for a different time. "And?" she asked instead, sensing more.

"And nothing," Oliver answered, crossing his arms. "And we've been left to cleanup the mess Doomsday left behind and all the other problems this city has, and we've had to do it without any help from Watchtower or Boy Scout."

Chloe frowned at the accusing tone. "I've been busy," she answered, mirroring Oliver's stance. "But I haven't been without cell-service. You could have called."

Oliver opened his mouth to respond, and she braced for an argument, but Dinah stepped forward before either could say a word. "We've had it covered, but now that you're back—"

"I'm not back," Chloe cut in. "At least not back to the Metropolis area. I'm relocating to Oklahoma for the time being."

"What's in Oklahoma?" Bart asked.

"A friend who needs my help." She held up a hand, before Oliver could cut in. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to skimp on my Watchtower duties. Last I checked, Oklahoma had Internet and phone service. It's not like it wouldn't be the first time I helped the team out from the comfort of my bedroom."

Oliver studied her for a moment then shook his head wryly. "I set up this nice, fancy workspace and you relocate."

"It's important," she insisted.

"With you, it always is," Oliver agreed. He moved to a desk stationed nearby and grabbed a laptop resting on top. "Well, in that case. You might need this. It's connected to Watchtower and it's got almost as many cool add-ons."

She accepted the gift with slight awe. "My inner geek thanks you."

"Yeah well, make sure your inner geek can make time for the team," Oliver stated.

AC smiled at her. "What he means is we're a little uncoordinated without our Watchtower keeping us in line."

"Sure, that's what I mean," Oliver groused.

Chloe smiled in return then remembered Oliver's earlier statement. "And what about Clark?"

"He left after Doomsday," Oliver said, looking disappointed. "Said something about losing faith in humanity then just sped off. We haven't been able to track him down."

Chloe shook her head at her friend's actions. "He'll come around."

"We can only hope."

* * *

Dean pulled off his jacket and tie, tossing them on his bed without any thought for wrinkles. They'd come out eventually. As he finished changing, he looked around the single room, noting once again the lack of another body.

He rested his hand on the cell phone in his pocket, but didn't bother pulling it out. He wasn't going to call them. He could handle an empty room.

And if he couldn't, there was a bar down the street with his name on it.

"I could use a beer," he decided, pulling on his leather jacket. "Or two."

* * *

The Kent farm was eerie when it was empty. Chloe stood in the kitchen, staring into shadows and willing Clark to emerge from them. She didn't want to believe her friend would just up and leave the way he had, but the facts were staring her in the face.

"Just so you know, Clark," she started, talking to the empty room like it held her friend. "Davis doesn't equal humanity. You can't judge us all on one twisted person."

The silence answered and she turned back to the door, stepping out into the starry night. Hesitating, she studied the dark horizon, looking for a familiar figure. "Clark!" she called, listening to her voice echo off the far barn wall.

She waited, half-hoping he would answer, but not surprised when he didn't. "Don't give up on us, Clark," she muttered, before returning to her vehicle. Clark was gone, but he'd find a way back, he usually did. And in the mean time, she had other things to worry about, like a certain Winchester all alone in a small Oklahoma town.

Her newly acquired SUV was loaded up with everything from her car's trunk, and enough essentials to last her as long as Sam needed. She just had to put Smallville in the rearview mirror, and she'd be set.

"Bye."

To Be Continued…

* * *

**A/N2:** Since I've already gone so far AU from SV I decided to push it a little further. In this 'verse, the attack on Doomsday/Davis went fairly similar to the one we saw on SV, only Zod did not rise from the orb, Lois didn't vanish into the future, and Jimmy didn't die. But Clark still went off to fulfill his training. I'll touch on SV again later and I have plans to incorporate some members of Ollie's League into certain episodes, so hopefully everyone will get a taste of the differences between my SV and the CW's SV.

Any questions, feel free to ask. :)


	61. Grow Closer

_Before…_

"It wasn't four months, you know," Dean said suddenly.

"What?"

"It was four months up here, but down there…I don't know. Time's different. It was more like forty years."

* * *

Dean wasn't sure who moved first, but Chloe was suddenly in his arms and he didn't care who'd moved first only where they were moving. With practiced ease, he scooped her up and shifted so he was laying over her on the bed. She made a small noise of surprise but pulled him closer, pushing their kisses deeper than they'd ever gone. Not missing a beat, he moved a hand to her waist and grabbed her shirt, sliding it up the length of her torso.

The end was nigh, they were all screwed (_figuratively speaking_), etc. etc.

But for the moment, Dean didn't care. He needed this. He needed _her_. His world had come to a crashing halt hours earlier. He needed relief.

* * *

Dean met her gaze. "Take care of him, Chloe."

* * *

_Now…_

_[Day One]_

Dean cursed, when the latest website proved useless. He wasn't exactly helpless when it came to the Internet and research, but this was getting ridiculous. He couldn't find any information on his latest hunt—nothing helpful at least. His hand itched to pick up the phone and call Chloe, but he knew better. He couldn't call, not yet.

He just wished sending Chloe off to stay with Sam hadn't meant sending off the best researchers in their small hunting party.

_At least I still have Bobby_, he mused, picking up his phone and dialing the familiar number. The older hunter would probably appreciate the call, if nothing else.

* * *

Chloe parked her SUV in front of the motel room and smiled at Sam through the windshield. He was leaning against the motel door, looking more relaxed than she'd seen him in days. She felt a small sense of relief, until he returned her smile. His smile didn't quite reach his eyes, and she realized his relaxed posture was a façade.

"How has Garber, Oklahoma been treating you?" she asked as she slipped out of the vehicle.

Sam moved from the door and met her at the trunk. "Fine. It's quiet."

She grabbed her laptop case and let him sling her duffel over his shoulder. "Looks like you managed to pick a city without a hunt," she joked, offering him another smile and not surprised when it wasn't returned.

"Looks like." He closed the back then gestured towards the SUV, curious. "What happened to your car?" he asked.

She patted the new vehicle wryly. "I decided it was time for an upgrade. I figured it'd be easier for you to fit those long legs of yours in this than in my old car."

Sam smiled, leading the way back to the motel. "Thanks."

"Besides," she continued, teasing, "There's more room in this to store all my toys."

"Dean'd be so proud," Sam stated then flinched like he'd said something unspeakable.

Chloe nudged him forward into the motel room, before he could dwell too much on his brother. "So, do anything exciting while I was gone?"

Sam tossed her duffel on the spare bed then settled onto his own bed. "Got a job as a busboy at a local bar. It doesn't pay much, but it'll let us stay here for a while longer." He gestured, taking in the motel room with a swipe of his hands.

"Yeah, about that," Chloe said, sitting across from him. She offered him a hesitant smile and dove into her suggestion. "Why don't we rent a place?"

Sam blinked. "What? Why?"

"Because, if this break from hunting is permanent, I'd rather not spend my time in some run-down motel," she admitted, looking pointedly at the strips of missing wallpaper and dirt stain on her pillow—at least she was going to assume it was dirt.

Sam studied her, instead of the room. "Apartments are expensive."

"Good thing I'm still on Oliver's payroll."

He continued to study her as if looking for the true motive behind her suggestion. After a beat, he nodded in agreement. "Good thing."

* * *

"Garber, Oklahoma," Bobby said by way of greeting.

Dean pulled the phone from his ear, frowned at it, and then put it back in place. "Come again?"

"That's where Sam and Chloe are."

"Thanks for the tip, but that's not why I called," he said.

"Alright," Bobby said, not sounding the least bit convinced. "What did you need?"

"Anything you know on the Jersey Devil lore."

As Bobby talked, Dean took notes, but not before writing _Garber, Oklahoma_ on the top of the page.

Just in case, of course.

* * *

_[Day Eight]_

"Watchtower out."

Sam leaned against the doorway to Chloe's room, knocking casually as she pulled the earpiece out and began repacking her very expensive looking laptop. "Mission successful?" he asked, when she looked up.

She nodded and gestured for him to join her inside the room. "One of those missions that makes me question my importance in the team," she said then smiled. "Which is a good thing, believe me." She slipped her equipment inside a compartment under her bed then turned to him, her smile still in place. "So, what's up?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to go grab some dinner with me, before I head over to the bar." He pulled out his paycheck from his back pocket and held it up. "My treat."

Her smile grew. "Well, if you're buying…" she started, grabbing her purse off her desk and following him out of the room. "We should really look into filling the refrigerator, though. I'm going to get sick of the diner's food pretty soon."

"You mean real food?" Sam clarified wryly.

"Yeah, and maybe if we're feeling really adventurous we could try _real_ cooking, too."

"What a concept."

Chloe laughed, and Sam let himself smile. "Stranger things have happened," she said.

* * *

_[Day Eleven]_

Chloe spotted Sam as soon as she walked inside the bar. It wasn't hard to spot his tall frame, even in a crowd of patrons. She watched him work for a moment, before making her way to the bar. She'd been in town almost two weeks and had yet to visit his work. She knew it wasn't necessary, but she'd decided it would be interesting to see Sam Winchester in an environment that didn't involve a supernatural hunt.

"Hey Tom Cruise," she greeted, sitting in front of him at the bar.

He smiled in greeting. "Hey, what are you doing here?"

"Visiting," she said with a shrug. "I wanted to see if you've learned how to twirl a bottle yet."

"Not yet," he mused then gestured to the counter in front of him. "Can I get you anything?"

"Will I get kicked out, if I just ask for water?"

Sam shook his head, already setting a glass in front of her. "Not as long as you tip well."

Behind him, a blonde waitress moved to deliver some drinks, eyeing the two of them curiously. Chloe nodded in her direction subtly. "Friend of yours?" she asked.

Sam glanced back at the waitress. "Who, Lindsay?"

"Yes, Lindsay." She watched Sam's face when he turned back to her. "Is there something I should know, Keith?" she asked, only half-teasing.

Sam shot Lindsay another glance then shook his head. "No. Nothing."

Chloe watched Lindsay shoot Sam another interested look, and couldn't help but disagree.

* * *

_[Day Fifteen]_

The apartment was small, but still larger than any of the motel rooms Sam was used to. For one, he had his own room, completely separate from the rest of the living space. The last time that had been the case, he'd been living with Jessica.

He stepped through the front door, closing it quietly behind him. It was past two in the morning, Chloe was no doubt sleeping. As he stepped into the living room, he realized his guess was correct. Chloe _was_ sleeping. Only, she wasn't in her bed.

Sam stood for a moment, debating between moving her to her bed and leaving her sprawled on the couch. In the end, Chloe made the decision for him, blinking awake and frowning up at him. "What time is it?" she asked, sitting up.

"A little past two." He reached down to slip out of his shoes, watching her as he moved. "Something wrong with your bed?"

Chloe shook her head, standing and stretching. "I was just sitting up until you got back from work. I couldn't sleep."

"I can see that," Sam teased. He grabbed her arm and turned her in the direction of her bedroom. "Think you can sleep now?"

Chloe brushed off his touch in mock annoyance. "I think I can manage."

* * *

_[Day Nineteen]_

Dean tipped his bottle forward, nodding at his drinking partner's words. "I heard about that hunt. Those were some impressive odds, man."

The other hunter smiled proudly, tapping his bottle against Dean's. "I thought so too. It's too bad we don't get awards for this kind of thing."

"Now that'd be a scary award's show," another hunter piped up, laughing at his own statement.

Dean joined in, letting himself get lost in the small dose of humor, and ignoring the fact that his laughter was only half-hearted at best.

* * *

_[Day Twenty-One]_

Chloe heard the tell-tale sound of Sam's key in the lock and shut off the television. There were nights she ended up stumbling her way into her bedroom before he made it home, unable to keep her eyes open any longer. Most nights, though, she was up, waiting.

She knew he didn't need her to wait up for him. He was a big boy, and she wasn't his keeper—not really. If she was honest, she knew she waited up more for her benefit than Sam's.

"Good morning," Sam greeted as he stepped inside and slid out of his shoes.

Chloe walked over to him, leaning against the counter of their small kitchen. "I've come to the conclusion that one car between the two of us isn't going to cut it anymore."

"Yeah?" Sam asked, handing her back the keys to her SUV.

She pursed her lips and nodded. "Yeah. Impulse offered to give me a ride again today, zipped into town spur of the moment and volunteered his services. If this keeps up he's going to start getting ideas."

Sam smiled slowly, his eyes bright with mirth. "You poor thing."

* * *

_[Day Twenty-Nine]_

Sam shuffled the grocery bags into one hand as he unlocked the apartment door with the other. When he stepped inside, he heard Chloe's voice coming from the hallway between their two bedrooms. She was quiet, but their apartment was small, her words reaching his ears even as he tried to tune her out.

"Yeah, I know. It is hard and it's getting worse."

Sam perked up at her words, wondering if she was talking about him and their situation.

"Well you know him better than I do. What are the chances of _that_ happening any time soon?" She sighed. "No, it'll be okay. I'm just worried. …Yeah, I'll keep you updated. Bye."

Sam pulled the few items from his grocery bags, listening to Chloe make her way to the living area. She walked up the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room, smiling up at him when he looked at her. "You're home early," she observed.

"Slow night, boss didn't want to pay me for doing nothing."

"Sounds logical." She set her cell phone on the counter and raised an eyebrow when his eyes followed the small device. "You heard me on the phone," she stated, no accusation in her tone.

He returned to the groceries, packing them away. "Tried not to. Small apartment."

"It was Bobby," Chloe explained. His back was to her, but he could hear her moving to sit at the counter's lone bar stool. "Just so you know."

"Okay." He attempted nonchalant and fell short.

"And it wasn't just about you," she added.

He turned to her, surprised to see her playing with her phone instead of watching him. She looked uneasy, like she'd been the one eavesdropping. "Dean?" he guessed.

She nodded, meeting his gaze. "Bobby wondered if he'd stopped by and I told him it was unlikely." _What are the chances of that happening any time soon?_

"And before that?" Sam pressed. He'd already admitted to listening in, he might as well give into his curiosity.

"About it being hard and getting worse, or before that when we talked about Oliver buying Bobby a motorized wheelchair?"

Sam smiled at that image and clarified, "The hard part."

"Oh." She set her phone in her lap. "That was about you. And only because trying to get you to talk is about as easy as getting Impulse to sit still."

"No chick-flick moments," he mumbled, crumpling up the empty grocery bags and tossing them in the trash.

Chloe leaned across the counter, forcing him to meet her eyes. "I'm not Dean."

"No," he agreed. "You're not."

* * *

_[Day Thirty]_

Chloe woke early, planning to grab some breakfast at the nearby café before Sam rose. She stepped out into the living area and found her roommate already up, nursing a mug of coffee. "Sam?" she started, noting the slump of his shoulders. "What's wrong?"

He looked up at her, and she felt a lump form in her throat when she saw the tears in his eyes. "Bad dream," he mumbled.

"Wanna talk about it?" she asked, taking her place next to him on the couch.

He shook his head, setting the mug on the coffee table. "Not really."

"Okay." She linked her hand through his and held on. "Okay."

* * *

_New Text Message_

_From: Chloe_

_We're still safe._

Dean closed his phone and relaxed.

* * *

_[Day Thirty-Three]_

Sam gave Chloe a small wave when she stepped out of her bedroom to find him sitting on the couch. Jess had visited him again that night, managing to cut right through him with words that were true despite his protests. _I was dead from the moment we said hello._

"Here," Chloe said, dropping a white bag in front of him. "They're a day old, but I had a feeling you'd wake up before me again so I bought them yesterday."

Sam cocked an eyebrow as he pulled open the bag and looked inside. "Donuts?"

"Good cure for bad dreams," she explained, pulling out a long john and taking a bite. She watched him as she chewed. _I'm trying_, her eyes said.

He pulled a donut out and held it up. "Thanks."

_Just give me more time_, he thought.

As if in response, Chloe settled back in her seat, getting ready for a long wait.

* * *

Dean watched the angel move around his motel room like he was looking for something.

"Where's Sam?" Castiel asked.

Dean pulled on his outer shirt as he answered. "Me and Sam are taking separate vacations for a while."

The angel seemed surprised by this information. "And Chloe?"

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Hiding under the bed," he deadpanned.

Castiel made a move to look then stopped and turned back to him. "You're not serious."

"No. I'm not." Dean felt a small swell of pride that Castiel was catching on. "She's with Sam. So," he continued before Castiel could ask anymore questions. "You find God yet? More importantly, can I have my damn necklace back, please?"

* * *

"Have you seen the news?" Sam asked, without greeting as he walked inside the apartment.

Chloe looked up from her place on the couch. "Not lately. Something happen?"

In response, Sam grabbed the remote and changed the channel, letting the news answer for him. The same report that had been playing at the bar was playing now. Hail storms, followed by fire-producing lighting strikes had hit a town nearby. Sam wasn't certain, but he could only assume they were another omen of the Apocalypse.

Chloe whistled and muted the TV. "Hail and fire," she mumbled, frowning thoughtfully. "Sounds familiar."

"To me too," Sam agreed. "But what's it a sign of, other than the end of the world?"

Chloe stood and moved to their small bookshelf. Over the weeks, it had quickly turned into a collection of different versions of the Bible, anything that might contain more events of the Apocalypse—most importantly the rise of the remaining three horsemen. At first, Sam had avoided the bookshelf, deciding the best way to step back from hunting was to step away completely, but he'd quickly decided research wouldn't hurt—especially when it involved staying one step ahead of the end of the world.

"'And there followed hail and fire mingled with blood'," Chloe read, having found the passage.

"Mingled with blood, huh?" Sam repeated.

"Looks like."

"Great."

Chloe nodded, closing the Bible. "Wanna take the case?" she asked.

"I can't."

She just slid the Bible back into its home, nodding again. "I'll call Bobby. See if he knows of anyone else in the neighborhood."

* * *

_[Day Thirty-Five]_

Dean took another swig of beer then slammed it to the table, resisting the urge to let his head follow. He was at a strip club. Correction: he and _Castiel_ were at a strip club. It was the perfect opportunity for a little friendly angel-torture, and maybe a little fun for himself, but all he could think about was Chloe.

It had been a month since she and Sam had stepped out of the hunting profession so Sam could get his head back in the game. There were some days Dean managed to go hours without thinking about them, and he would let himself believe he was getting used to working alone—again.

But then something would spark a memory and he'd be stuck wondering about them again. Was Sam getting better, getting over his addiction? Was Chloe doing everything she could to help him, while staying sane?

Did they miss him?

And now, he was sitting, thinking about Chloe and what it had felt like to hold her the way he had back at Bobby's, pushing their relationship further than it had gone before. It had been way too brief, cut off by Bobby's impromptu interruption, but he could still remember the softness of her skin beneath her blouse.

"Hey baby," a woman cooed, sliding up next to him. "You look lonely."

He smiled, eyeing her carefully, then shook his head. "I'm okay," he grumbled. "Thanks."

Chloe so owed him.

* * *

By the fifth morning, Chloe still couldn't get Sam to tell her anything about his dreams, except that they involved his dead girlfriend. She wanted to press him and push for more information, but she knew that was the best way to get him to close up completely. Instead, she settled for making French toast and letting him smile at her attempt to fry an egg.

Aside from Sam's nightmare-induced early mornings, the two of them had fallen into a routine formed from a month living together. Chloe wasn't sure if that was necessarily a good thing, but it was all they had, for now.

Chloe tossed Sam the car keys as he walked back into the living area. "Do me a favor, keep me updated on your hunter friends. Let me know if they stop this demon attack."

Sam nodded, slipping on a jacket and turning to the front door. "Hank's good. He'll figure this out, but I'll keep you updated." With that and a wave, he slipped out the door to his job, leaving Chloe alone with her thoughts.

The two of them may have slipped into a routine, but Chloe was starting to realize how much she missed hunting. It wasn't the actual hunt she missed, if anything, she would prefer to leave that behind forever. It was the fact that she was sitting safe in her apartment while others worked on the dangerous hunt that bothered her

But Sam trusted Hank and his friends to get the job done, so Chloe just had to believe him, because until Sam felt ready, they were both stuck on the sidelines.

* * *

_"It's been a long time since I've laughed that hard. It's been more than a long time. Years."_

It had taken time, but Dean had finally reached a point where he didn't feel those forty Hell-year aging him beyond his earthly lifespan. There were still times, though, when three years ago felt like forty-three, when he looked in the mirror and knew his reflection didn't match the spirit underneath, or when he realized the last time he'd _really_ laughed had been both two years and half a lifetime earlier.

"It will get easier," Castiel said, pulling him from his thoughts.

Dean glanced at the angel across the hood o the car and nodded. "I know," he said, not sure what either of them were referring to.

* * *

_[Day Thirty-Six]_

Chloe looked up when the door opened, the light comment on her tongue dying as soon as she caught a good look at Sam. There was blood on his collar, knuckles, and she could see a faint stain of it along his chin. "What—" she started only to be cut off.

"They found out. The hunters," he clarified as she moved to get a wet rag for his knuckles. "They found out about me and what I did and what I can do with demon blood."

She stiffened, putting two-and-two together and not liking what it equaled. "They tried to kill you?" she guessed. The rag in her hand pulled taught at the idea.

Sam gently pulled the rag from her hands and started wiping his knuckles. "No. They tried to use me. They tried to feed me demon blood so I'd kill the demons." He tossed the rag in the sink, before his hands were clean and moved to the couch, looking weary. "I was expecting hatred. I was expecting them to want to kill me. I was _not_ expecting this," he confessed.

Chloe sat on the coffee table across from him. "You can't predict how people will react. You had the power to kill demons with little effort. It's not that much of a stretch to assume someone's going to want to use that power."

"I don't," Sam stated. "Not anymore. It's too dangerous."

"Well that's good to know."

Sam looked down at his hands. "People are dying, Chloe," he said suddenly. "Because of me and what I did."

"And people were dying before you," Chloe said, knowing he wasn't asking to be let off the hook, but unable to stop herself.

"Not like this," he argued, meeting her gaze again. He looked torn between ashamed and annoyed that she wasn't siding against him. Maybe both.

It was a familiar look, one she'd seen in the eyes of her best friend for years. Whenever Clark made a mistake, or assumed he'd made a mistake, he had the same look in his eyes. He wanted her to hate him and agree that he'd made a mistake, but at the same time he was looking for forgiveness. "What are you going to do about it, then?" she demanded, focusing again on the man in front of her. "Because you can either work to fix this mess or just stop worrying about it. You can't do both."

"Chloe—" Sam started, and she cut him off.

"But first, you have to forgive yourself, Sam. You can't move on unless you forgive yourself."

Sam looked skeptical. "Just forgive myself for starting the Apocalypse and freeing Lucifer?"

"Why not?" she asked with a shrug. "I've forgiven you."

* * *

Dean drove in silence after Castiel vanished from the passenger seat. Too much of the last month had been spent in silence. He was starting to go a little stir-crazy. Like a force of habit, he grabbed his cell phone and scrolled through the contact list, hovering over Chloe's number.

_But now that I'm alone, hell, I'm happy._

It was a lie. He knew it, and he had no doubt that Castiel knew it, but it was a necessary lie. Things were easier this way, with the three of them separated.

He had to believe that.

* * *

Chloe lay in bed, staring at her ceiling. She'd fallen into the habit of pushing herself to the point of exhaustion each night just to avoid staring at her ceiling—and thinking. It was the thinking that was going to be her undoing. If she had time to think, she had time to worry about Dean and his distance from them. She had time to worry about Sam and whether or not he was ever going to get back into the hunting business. She had time to worry about where she really wanted to be.

She had time to think about the man she hadn't seen in over a month and missed more than she'd realized she would.

_And if I miss him_, she thought, turning over to press her face in her pillow. Sam definitely does.

* * *

_Because it had to be you, Sam. It always had to be you._

Sam blinked and Lucifer vanished, leaving his threat to echo through the room. His first thought was of his brother, his second of Chloe, and just like he had for the past month, he sought out option two.

To Be Continued…


	62. Bleak Outcome

_Before…_

_Because it had to be you, Sam. It always had to be you._

Sam blinked and Lucifer vanished, leaving his threat to echo through the room. His first thought was of his brother, his second of Chloe, and just like he had for the past month, he sought out option two.

* * *

_Now…_

Chloe woke early, determined to get Sam to talk. It had been a week since Sam's nightmares had started, and it was time they dealt with it. She knew his visions had ended years earlier, but repeat dreams about a long-dead girlfriend had to mean something.

Slipping into warmer clothes, Chloe stepped out of her bedroom and into Sam's chest. "Morning," she mumbled, stepping back and looking up at her clearly stressed housemate.

"It's him," he said, his voice clipped and edging on panic. "It never was Jess."

"Him who?" Chloe asked, her mind not quite up for making connections yet. She needed coffee.

Sam seemed to realize they were still standing in her bedroom doorway and grabbed her hand, leading her into the couch in the living room. Once they were settled, he started talking, explaining every dream he'd had during the last week, everything _Jess_ had told him, and everything Lucifer had said once he'd revealed himself.

"I'm his vessel. His true vessel," Sam admitted, sounding torn between tears and rage.

Chloe's grip tightened around his forearm. "I thought he already had a vessel."

"He does, and it's deteriorating. The vessel isn't strong enough to contain Lucifer," he explained.

_But you are_, Chloe thought, mentally finishing what she wasn't going to make Sam say.

She wanted to say something encouraging, anything to pull the panicked look from his face, but she was at a loss. How could she reassure him that he was safe, when it was the _Devil_ they were worried about? That level of evil came with a whole new set of rules, and no one had memorized them yet.

"It won't happen," she said as strongly as possible and knowing it wasn't enough. She believed in Sam and knew he would never consent to being Lucifer's vessel—not when that meant the end of the world—but it was the Devil she was worried about. He was the unknown variable in Sam's fate.

Sam looked down. "He said I would say yes. Once he finds me, he'll get me to say yes."

Chloe nudged him. "And you believed him?" she asked. "Remember who you're dealing with, Sam. He invented manipulation and lying. He's just trying to screw with your head." She grabbed his shoulders and turned him so he was looking at her, squeezing tightly. "You have to trust yourself."

"I trusted myself last year," he pointed out, but didn't look away.

"Well last year your sidekick was a manipulating demon," she said, offering him a wry smile. "This year, you've got me. And not to brag, but I'd say that's an upgrade."

Sam didn't smile at her comment, but he no longer looked as panicked so she counted it as a win. "If you won't trust yourself," she continued, "then trust me."

"I have to call Dean," he said, instead of acknowledging her words. "I want back in."

He stood to grab his cell phone, and Chloe remained in her seat, watching him walk away. She wasn't sure if it would do any good or if anyone would even listen, but as soon as Sam was out of the room, she dropped her head into her hands, closed her eyes, and prayed.

* * *

"We can fight it."

To anyone else, Sam's statement would have sounded confident and assuring. Dean knew Sam, though, and his brother sounded scared. Not that he blamed him, of course. Learning that you were Lucifer's vessel was pretty up there on the list of number one fears.

It went against all of Dean's instincts to just sit in his motel room while Sam was panicked on the other end of the phone. Two years earlier—maybe even a year earlier—he would have been out of the room as soon as his brother mentioned Lucifer's name.

Hell, the two of them never would have been separated to begin with.

But that was before, this was now, and they couldn't repeat history, because the end result wasn't one Dean was willing to face. Again.

"Yeah, you're right. We can," he agreed then continued, knowing his words were going to crush his brother, no matter how much they needed to be said. "But not together. We're not stronger when we're together, Sam. I think we're weaker. Because whatever we have between us—love, family, whatever it is—they are always gonna use it against us. And you know that."

Crushing Sam aside, the words hurt _him_ just speaking them. He was right. He knew he had to be. He had proof of history on his side. It still pained him, though, to say it to Sam, to tell his brother that the best solution was to separate themselves, permanently. "Yeah, we're better off apart," he said more for his own benefit than Sam's. "We got a better chance of dodging Lucifer and Michael and this whole damn thing, if we just go our own ways."

"Dean—" Sam started predictably

"Stay with Chloe," Dean cut in. "Stay safe."

"Don't do this," his brother pleaded, all attempts at bravery gone from his voice.

Dean closed his eyes, ignored his older-brother instinct, and told Sam goodbye.

The phone was set on the table, and he watched it, knowing what was coming next. Sam wasn't the only predictable one.

Less than a minute later, his phone went off again, a different name highlighted on the screen. Chloe was calling to talk him into what Sam had been unable to. That, or she was simply calling to yell at him for leaving Sam.

He was going to miss her, miss both of them, but he was making the right decision.

Determined, he flipped open his phone and rejected her call. "Stay safe," he whispered, returning to his bed for some rest. It was going to be a long next few years.

* * *

_[January 27, 2009]_

"This is Dean. Leave a message."

Chloe almost did as the voicemail prompted then thought better of it. She'd left four months worth of messages, all with varying degrees of emotion and urgency. Dean wasn't answering.

With her connection to Watchtower—or simply the tracking skills she'd acquired over the years—locating Dean would have been simple. Sam, though, was against that plan of action. He argued that if Dean believed they were better off separated, no amount of talking, whether over the phone or in person, was going to change his mind.

Slipping her cell phone into her pocket, Chloe returned to the motel room, smiling at Sam when she entered. Sam knew what she was doing every time she stepped outside, but he'd given up trying to talk her out of it.

"Rufus called," he said, instead. "He's got a case for us in Detroit."

Chloe noted the time and started packing. It was still early enough for them to hit the road. "Another demon block party?" she asked as she moved.

Sam slung his already packed bag over his shoulder. "Sounds like. He's meeting us there and bringing some backup," he said.

"Good." She zipped up her duffel and followed him to the door, ready to put the latest motel room behind them. There was something unsettling about an all orange room and bathroom—unsettling and blinding. It wasn't often she missed their old apartment back in Oklahoma, but a bright orange coffeemaker and matching toilet made her nostalgic.

Sam paused at the door, turning to her with the same questioning look he'd had since Dean had made their separation permanent. Before he could say anything, she held up a hand, demanding silence, then moved past him and out the door. "You ask me again and I'll leave you here," she stated.

Sam chuckled behind her, and she relaxed a fraction. "Alright. I won't ask."

"I'm here because I want to be," she continued, unable to stop the oft repeated statement from being spoken. "It's my choice."

"Okay." Sam moved around her and into his usual place in the driver's seat.

She tossed her bag into the back seat of her SUV. "I'm not leaving you."

"Rufus said this hunt will be dangerous," Sam pointed out, but the statement was half-hearted and routine.

"It's the apocalypse," Chloe said, taking her cue. "When are the hunts not dangerous?"

* * *

_Temptation; Threats; Detroit._

Sam shook his head and thought of Chloe. "I'll never say yes."

* * *

_[August 4, 2014]_

Dean took one look around the clearly abandoned room that had once served as Bobby's library and felt despair settle over him. If anyone could survive well into the future, he would have put his money on Bobby. The room around him was a clear indication that he would have lost that bet.

"What happened to you, Bobby?" he asked the empty room. "And where is everyone?"

Giving the room one last look over, he moved to the hidden compartment on the fireplace, pulling out Bobby's journal. "At least this didn't change," he muttered, flipping it open and skimming for information. The first picture he came across offered him the only glimmer of hope he'd felt since landing five years in the future.

It was a simple candid shot of Chloe and Sam leaning against the hood of a car, but it meant at least one thing had happened like he'd predicted: Chloe and Sam had stuck together. "Thanks, Chloe," he said, flipping the picture over. _Stay safe, Bobby,_ was scrawled on the back in Chloe's handwriting. No date, but the picture was stuck with an entry that was written in mid-2011.

He flipped ahead to his current time and found another photograph. This one giving him more pause than the one prior. Bobby, Castiel, and a few other men were next to a sign for Camp Chitaqua, all holding guns and all clearly standing. Most significantly Bobby, who was standing on his own legs, without any hint of support.

Dean pocketed the picture, before he could let himself analyze the photo much longer. There was more to the photo he wanted to study—such as the fact that Castiel looked nothing like the angel he'd left behind in 2009—but he didn't have time. Tucking Bobby's journal under his arm and trying not to think about the distinct lack of two important people in the last photo, he headed out of the house. He now had a destination and a plan of action. Hopefully Camp Chitaqua was still up and running, and holding the answers he needed.

* * *

_[July 4, 2011]_

Ellen handed Sam a beer and he smiled in thanks, returning his attention to Chloe as she spoke. She had a detailed map of the country unfolded in front of her and drew a red circle around the New England area.

"Blame it on the tight, packed population, or the higher chance of an emigration spread, but this area looks like it's been hit the worst by the Croatoan pandemic," she said, looking around the group. "This virus may be turning people into monsters, but it's hitting cities and whole areas in almost calculated ways. This thing has already popped up across the boarder, and if it keeps increasing in port cities, like it has, it's only a matter of time before it lands across the ocean."

"Infecting the world," Jo finished.

"Exactly."

"God bless America," Austin muttered, his grip tightening on his pistol. There had been a time when Sam would have felt sympathy for new hunters like Austin, but that time had passed. With the steady increase of evil across the country—and soon the ocean—new hunters were needed everywhere, especially ones who had the military background Austin did.

Next to him, Rufus pointed to the small place on the map where they were currently stationed. "At this point, there's no use worrying about the infected in other parts of the country. We all know Bobby's been gathering hunters up in his neck of the woods. It's time we started doing likewise."

"Sure," Sam agreed. "But we can't just gather together, hunker down, and hope the storm passes. Our only chance at seeing an end to this is to stop the Devil."

"And how exactly are we going to do that?" Rufus asked, his tone sharp with disbelief.

"With the Colt," Chloe answered, fixing the older man with an annoyed frown. "Unless you have a better idea."

"What about those super friends of yours?" he asked. "They'd sure come in handy in this little Apocalypse we're in."

Chloe shook her head, sitting back in her seat. "Misery loves company, and this 'little Apocalypse' isn't the only problem humanity is facing. My team's busy keeping us safe from another threat."

"If you're holding out on us, Watchtower," Rufus started, drawing out the old codename mockingly. Sam rested a hand on Chloe's shoulder, giving him a warning look, and he let the weak threat die. Rufus was a great hunter—Sam couldn't deny that fact—but his frequent distrust in younger hunters was quickly getting on Sam's last nerve, especially when the distrust was directed at Chloe.

Ellen placed her hands on the map in front of them. "Any idea where the Colt is?" she asked, bringing the conversation back into focus.

Chloe nodded, all business again. "I'm closing in on a lead."

* * *

The fireworks started just after sundown, lighting up the sky as they had for decades before.  
"Some things never change," Chloe said as she watched the night sky.

Sam stood beside her, the rest of their small hunting party elsewhere for the night. "This time next year, those fireworks are going to be gunfire," he predicted.

She looked up at him and shook her head wryly. "Always the pessimist."

"I try." He turned back to the night sky, watching it for a beat, before continuing with his intended topic. "Dean's with Bobby, you know."

"Yeah, I've known. Bobby told me," Chloe said, returning her attention on the fireworks.

Sam nodded, not surprised. He knew she'd been keeping tabs on his brother ever since the first outbreak of the Croatoan virus. "Do you miss him?" he asked, guessing the answer, but having to ask the question anyway. It had been two years since either of them had seen Dean, and Sam had never asked. He figured it was time.

"Yes," she said simply.

There was a pause, and Sam assumed the subject was dropped, neither one of them interested in discussing it further. Chloe already knew he missed his brother. She'd never had to ask to know the answer to that question. And, if he was honest with himself, Sam hadn't really needed to ask her either.

"But Dean made his choice two years ago," Chloe continued, startling Sam for a moment. She turned her back on the fireworks, focusing instead on Sam. "And so did I. You're stuck with me, Winchester. Just deal with it. Lucifer's not getting his hands on you."

* * *

_Promises; Predictions; Atlanta_

"No! Go back to Hell," Sam demanded, before returning to his team and Chloe.

* * *

_[August 5, 2014]_

Dean had seen some strange stuff in his thirty-five years, especially since the days of the first Croatoan outbreak, but the Back to the Future-bit he was currently dealing with was a little much. He was having a conversation with his past-self. A man who knew nothing about the hardships he'd had to deal with over the last five years. A man who was going to end up being the _cause_ of those hardships.

"So, what, Zach zapped you up here to see how bad it gets?" he asked, returning to his weapons bag. Past-self or not, he still had a mission to get to. The Colt wasn't going to sit still for much longer.

"I guess," the other man agreed. "Croatoan virus, right? That's their endgame?"

Dean nodded in agreement. "It's efficient, it's incurable, and it's scary as hell. Turns people into monsters. Started hitting the major cities about two years ago. World really went in the crapper after that."

To his credit, Dean didn't seem surprised by this information, or even all that scared—not that he'd ever show fear, even to himself. "What about Sam and Chloe?" he asked.

Dean hesitated, realizing he should have anticipated this question. The time traveler came from a year where Sam and Chloe _would_ be major concerns. That wasn't the case anymore. "There was an ambush near Houston. No survivors," he said, deciding that was as close to the truth as he wanted to get at the moment. For all intents and purposes, there _had_ been no survivors. Even with Lucifer wearing his body like a cheap suit, Sam still couldn't be classified as a survivor. He had no doubt that the Hell Sam was living through was the exact opposite of surviving.

"No survivors?" his younger self repeated, realization showing in his eyes. "Wait, you weren't with them?"

"No." He shook his head, swallowing any lingering guilt, before it could show. "No, the three of us split five years ago. Haven't talked to them since." Castiel and Chuck were the only ones who knew about Sam and Chloe, and they knew better than to bring them up. It was an unspoken rule, and one Dean never wanted broken again. For a good reason.

It was painful.

"Five years, and we never tried to find them? Chloe never tracked you down?" His younger self wasn't buying it, or didn't want to. Too bad the truth hurt.

"She had Sam to deal with," Dean said. "And I had other people to worry about." Done with the blast from the past, he grabbed his gun and bag full of weapons, ready to head out. "It's a dangerous world you're coming into. Not even Superman can handle the hell that's out there."

"Superman?"

Dean turned to the door. "Have Chloe explain, when you get back."

* * *

_[November 6, 2012]_

The camp was relatively quiet, everyone settled down and waiting for the fallout that was sure to come once the election was decided. It wasn't often the camp was quiet, and Chloe wasn't sure if she really enjoyed it, or not. Quiet meant no one was dying, but it also meant there was time to remember the dead. And the list had been growing steadily over the last year, even more so since the Croatoan virus had hit the major cities.

There was a knock on her door, and Dinah stuck her head inside. "Palin's president."

Chloe pursed her lips. "And cue the Democrats' revolt."

"At least they have fewer guns than the Republicans," the former Canary mused. She stepped inside and studied Chloe. "You doing okay, girl?"

Chloe wanted to nod and brush off the question, but it was useless. Dinah would find out eventually. "Bobby's dead," she said, gesturing to the radio at the other end of the room. "Chuck just contacted me and said it was Croats."

Dinah's eyes widened. "Anyone else? They didn't attack the camp, did they?"

"No, he was on assignment," she assured, knowing that was the only good thing out of the tragedy. There were few hunter and refugee camps left in the country. If Bobby's had been attacked, it would have weakened their side even more.

Dinah rested a hand on Chloe's arm, squeezing briefly. "Can I do anything for you?" she asked, her tone full of understanding. With less than a year under her belt, Dinah knew very little about the hunting world, but when it came to losing teammates, she was almost an expert. And if Dinah was an expert, Chloe wasn't sure what that made _her_. Sometimes it was hard being on two teams. It meant having more people to lose.

"Can you tell Sam I'm almost ready?" she asked. "We should head out within the hour."

Dinah nodded in understanding, both to the request and to the distraction it offered. The hero-turned-hunter knew, without question, when to push and when to leave emotional problems alone. "Will do."

* * *

Dinah spotted them after the mission, standing quietly in front of the plot of land that held more headstones than bodies. The scene was both heartbreaking and encouraging. After everything, the two of them were still standing side-by-side, equally shouldering the difficulties and responsibilities their positions contained.

She had only been a member of their camp for a few months, but she knew the leadership position Sam and Chloe held was one that that had been earned through a unanimous and unspoken agreement among the rest of the camp residents. Chloe didn't have the hunting experience Sam did, but she had the leadership qualities. The Croatoan virus had proved effective in wiping out every other member of their team of superheroes, but Watchtower was still as effective of a leader as she had been in the past.

As Dinah watched, Chloe placed a small bundle of wildflowers in front of the biggest headstone, the one with the ever growing list of names carved on its face. Her team had joined the list a few months earlier, but the list had been significant before that, holding the names of experienced and inexperienced hunters alike.

Bobby Singer's name had joined the list the day before, and Dinah had been sure that would be it, _the_ name to break their leaders beyond repair, especially Chloe. Dinah had only met the older hunter once before, but she knew how important he'd been to Chloe. Despite the distance he'd been her mentor, guiding her through hardships, and she'd been his aid, getting him out of his wheelchair permanently.

It was the Apocalypse, though. The list of the dead was growing, as the list of those left behind remained painfully small.

When Chloe stood back up, Sam pulled her into his arms, and Dinah turned away, leaving them to their private moment.

* * *

_Intimidation; Implications; Nashville_

Sam focused on Chloe's pleading eyes as he spoke. "You can't make me agree."

* * *

_[August 5, 2014]_

"Sam didn't die in Houston. He said yes."

Dean's eyes widened, when he heard the news from his older self. "Yes?" he repeated, knowing full well what that meant, but not wanting to believe it. "You mean…"

"That's right," the future version agreed. "The big 'yes'. To the Devil. Lucifer's wearing him to the prom." There was no emotion in the statement, no remorse, and Dean realized he recognized the man he was looking at. It was someone who'd lost all hope, and had nothing left but one final mission: kill the Devil.

"Why would he do that?" he asked. "Chloe would have stopped him."

"Chloe's dead."

* * *

_[January 1, 2013]_

Sam looked up when the passenger side door opened. Without a word, Chloe climbed inside and buckled herself in. "I thought you were riding with Jo?" he asked.

"Dinah's riding with her. I'm riding with you," she said, gesturing for him to start the engine. The cold air was starting to seep into the truck's interior.

"Alright." He started the truck and headed out of the camp, watching their convoy follow in the rearview mirror. "Next stop, Houston."

"Yee haw."

He found her hand and held on.

* * *

_Destruction; Death; Houston_

Sam was watching her body when he nodded. "Yes."

* * *

_[August 6, 2014]_

Gunfire lit up the inside of the building, a clear indication that the intended distraction was working. Dean didn't let himself dwell on the lives being lost inside, hurrying past the building. He needed to find his older self. The man may be willing to sacrifice his friends, but he was still facing the Devil, he was going to need help. And after he was done helping him, he was going to punch him in the face for being an idiot.

He rounded a corner, heading for the back of the building. Dean had said he was going in through the back, he could only hope he'd stuck with the plan. As he rounded another corner, he froze, completely unprepared to see the person in front of him.

Her brow wrinkled in confusion, and she glanced behind her as if looking for someone. "Dean?"

He swallowed, knowing it had to be a trick, but still torn at the sight of her. "Chloe?"

The confusion was replaced by a small smile. "Oops." She blinked, her eyes bleeding black. "Try again."

Dean flinched and took a step back, holding up a hand as if to stop the facts from reaching him.

"Oh Dean. I'm hurt. Aren't you happy to see me?" she asked, pretending to pout. Her eyes changed back to their natural green.

"You aren't her," Dean spat, wishing he'd been given a weapon. "She's dead."

The demon nodded. "True. I killed her myself," she said, smiling slowly. "And I'm sorry about that Dean, I really am, but it had to be done. She was getting in the way. But you know what they say: why let a good body go to waste?"

"Getting in the way?" Dean asked, not expecting the truth but asking anyway.

The demon moved closer until she was just out of arms reach. "Of Sam. See, all this time we just thought Sam was saying no out of sheer strength of will. Stubborn boy, that Sammy." She smiled at Dean as if sharing a secret. "But then we realized it was more than that. It was _her_." The demon gestured to the body she was possessing. "So, remove the obstacle and win the battle."

"That's why he said yes?" Dean asked, not quite believing it.

"Mmhmm," she agreed then gestured down the path. "Now get going, Deano. You really don't wanna miss the show." Without another word, she turned to leave.

"Meg," he called, guessing the demon by tone alone. When she turned back to him, he glared. "I'm going to kill you. Before you can ever touch her, I'll stop you."

Meg laughed, her eyes flashing black again. "Now that'd be a neat trick." With that, she was gone, leaving Dean to face the Devil— and his brother.

Determination settling over him as continued on. This wasn't his future. He wouldn't let it happen.

* * *

_[October 1, 2009]_

"Give yourself to Michael. Say yes, and we can strike. Before Lucifer gets to Sam. Before billions die." Zachariah frowned in sympathy. "Before Chloe dies."

_Whatever choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up here._ The words had been echoing through Dean's head, since Lucifer had said them. They were meant as a threat, but Dean saw them as a challenge. The devil was in the details, and he was going to alter as many as he could. Just not the one detail Zachariah wanted him to alter.

"Nah," he muttered, turning back to the angel.

"'Nah'?" Zachariah repeated, disbelief showing in his vessel's eyes. "You're telling me you haven't learned your lesson?"

Dean pictured his older self's hard, yet broken, gaze, Chloe's coal black eyes, and shook his head. "Oh, I've learned a lesson, alright. Just not the one you wanted to teach."

He barely registered Zachariah's annoyed glared, before he and the motel room were gone, replaced by a dark roadside. Dean turned and smiled at Castiel, relieved for the first time to see the familiar trench coat. He was back in his own time, and he had a chance to change the future.

He _would_ change the future.

But first, he had a phone call to make.

* * *

_[October 2, 2009]_

Chloe stayed in the SUV, watching the brothers reunite. There were no tears or hugs, but she watched Sam stand a little taller as they spoke and gave into hope. The brothers were together again.

Dean nodded at something Sam said then looked over, catching Chloe's gaze through the windshield. With a final look at his brother, he moved to the vehicle, gesturing for Chloe to get out.

"Everything settled?" she asked as climbed out.

Dean continued forward and grabbed her around the waist, muttering something that she thought might have been _not yet_, but then he was kissing her and she didn't care what he'd said. She gave into his touch, telling him just how much she'd missed him without words.

He pulled back before either was ready and looked down at her. "Thank you," he whispered, his words brushed against the edge of her mouth. She smiled then he was kissing her again, and she didn't even think to ask what she'd done.

_You're welcome._

To Be Continued…


	63. Some Worries

_Before…_

"'Nah'?" Zachariah repeated, disbelief showing in his vessel's eyes. "You're telling me you haven't learned your lesson?"

Dean pictured his older self's hard, yet broken, gaze, Chloe's coal black eyes, and shook his head. "Oh, I've learned a lesson, alright. Just not the one you wanted to teach."

* * *

Chloe stayed in the SUV, watching the brothers reunite. There were no tears or hugs, but she watched Sam stand a little taller as they spoke and gave into hope. The brothers were together again.

* * *

_Now…_

Chloe was barely out of her bed, when the knock at her door grew louder. It was six o'clock in the morning. Her clothes were wrinkled. Her hair was, no doubt, a mess. And someone was knocking on her door.

"What?" she demanded as she pulled open the door, glaring at the early visitor.

Dean smirked down at her, offering a cup of coffee. "Ready to go?" he asked.

"Do I look like I am?" she countered, gesturing to her attire and wondering just how much of her morning breath he could detect. She took a long gulp of coffee and cocked an eyebrow at him over the lid. "What's with the early-bird routine?"

"We've got a Colt to track down," he said, like she needed a reminder of their current mission—the one they'd been on for over two weeks. From the moment he'd called her and Sam back into the hunt, they had been on a nonstop search for the elusive Colt. During that time, a handful of leads had gone cold and Dean's urgency had grown stronger. Chloe knew the Colt was their only known chance at killing Lucifer, but she still didn't quite understand Dean's drive to find the weapon.

"Dean," she started, reaching out to grab his hand.

He met her halfway, squeezing her fingers briefly, before pulling back. "We hit the road in a half-hour," he said then he was gone, back to his room to wake Sam with the same order.

Chloe saluted his retreating back with her coffee. "Yes sir."

When he'd called them back into the hunt, Chloe had hoped things would change. The brothers would work to rebuild their relationship. The chances of them defeating the Devil would increase with their rekindled brotherhood. And, just maybe, she and Dean would find a way to get beyond the too brief and all-too-often interrupted moments of intimacy and develop something that could actually be defined as a relationship.

He'd kissed her the moment he'd seen her, and she'd been sure it had meant more than the _thank you_ he'd whispered against her skin. Now, though, she wasn't so sure. They were right back to where they'd started, and Chloe was starting to realize just how much that month apart had changed their small group.

She stepped back inside her room to get ready, taking another long drink of her coffee. It was going to be a long morning.

Following orders, she was checked out and ready to go within the allotted half-hour. Sam met her at the SUV, with a small smile and his own cup of coffee. "Is it okay if I ride with you?" he asked.

Chloe chuckled, nodding her consent. "Of course, but what's wrong with the Impala?" she asked, nodding to the car in question a few parking spaces away.

"It's easier to sleep in your car than in Dean's," he explained, before tossing his bags in the back and sliding into the passenger seat.

Chloe caught Dean's gaze as Sam shut his door. The older hunter mouthed _follow me_ then got into his car, apparently undisturbed by his brother's decision. She shook her head and climbed into the driver's seat. Sam already had his seat reclined and looked to be getting comfortable. "Next stop, we switch," she bargained, stifling a yawn.

Sam's mouth twitched, his eyes closed. "Deal."

* * *

The sound of rain and windshield wipers woke him. He blinked and offered Chloe a small smile as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Looks like rain," he observed wryly, pulling his seat into an upright position.

Chloe smiled, but kept her attention on the road. "Hope this doesn't ruin Dean's plans," she said, though her tone betrayed the truth in her words. She really wasn't worried.

Sam smirked, knowing he wasn't either. He wanted to find the Colt just as much as his brother, but wouldn't mind resting, even if it was as simple as a stop to wait out the growing storm. "He's getting a little obsessed," he admitted, voicing the opinion he'd been hiding for over a week.

"You noticed that too?" she asked, with little surprise in her voice. "I wonder what's driving him. You think something happened?"

"Maybe. Probably," Sam agreed. He'd been going over his brother's behavior for the two weeks, trying to find the clue to his sudden obsession. So far, he couldn't figure it out. "No idea what, though. He's not real big on opening up to me."

"You say that like he's big on opening up to anyone," Chloe countered. She turned up the speed of her wipers as the rain came harder, looking thoughtful. "Do you think Lucifer got to him? Like he did to you? Or maybe even Michael, for that matter?"

Sam shrugged helplessly. "No clue. It's possible, I guess."

"He's going to have to talk," she decided. "Before one of us falls asleep behind the wheel."

He watched the Impala's taillights for beat, imagining his brother sitting alone, just as he had been for the last month. "He's falling back into our old roles, again," he said, making sure his tone indicated that he was not happy with that fact.

"Old roles?"

"The ones where he gives the orders and I—we," he amended, gesturing between the two of them, "follow with little question."

"You make him sound like a drill sergeant," Chloe observed.

He looked at her. "Six AM wake up call," he said simply. "Just remember that."

"But he's never been this bad before, has he?"

"Not all the time," he admitted. "But when it comes down to it, Dean likes to pull out the older brother card and make the final decisions. And after my _screw up_ with Ruby and the month away from hunting, I've got a feeling he'll be pulling that card out more often."

He was grateful to be hunting with Dean again—he really was—but if his brother didn't start treating him with a little more equality he was going to regret their reunion. He couldn't fall back into the younger—therefore in need of more guidance—role again.

"Well, you know you can always go back to bartending," Chloe teased.

Sam shook his head automatically. "No thanks. I think I'll stick with hunting."

"Good." She smiled soft and friendly. "Me too."

* * *

If it hadn't been for the storm, Dean would have made sure they reached their destination that night. Tips on the Colt's whereabouts were minimal and hardly reliable at best, but he knew better than to let any of them pass by without at least looking into them. Castiel believed the Colt was the key to killing the Devil, and Dean figured he should take the angel's word for it.

He didn't really have any other plan to kill the Devil.

"As soon as this lets up, I want to head out again," he said, pushing the motel room's curtain aside to get a better look at the downpour outside. Lightening flashed, illuminating the almost-empty parking lot.

"We've been driving all day," Chloe pointed out, from her place on one of the beds. "Why don't we call it a night and head out tomorrow morning?" She made a face. "Bright and early, just like you like."

Sam nodded in agreement, stretched out on the opposite bed, and Dean rolled his eyes. "You guys realize how rare these Colt tips are?" he asked, moving from the window and standing at the foot of the two beds. "We might not get another chance."

Chloe sighed, and Dean knew he'd won. "Fine. But until the storm lets up, we rest," she bargained and reached forward to capture his wrist, tugging him closer to the bed. There was an inappropriate comment on his lips, but he swallowed it when she shot him a knowing look. "Rest," she repeated as he let her pull him onto the bed.

He flopped back against one of the bed's thin pillows and looked up at Chloe as she leaned over him, propped up on an elbow. "Resting. Happy?" he asked wryly.

"Very," Sam muttered from the other bed.

Chloe nodded in agreement and lay down beside to him. Not touching, but close enough for him to still feel her next to him. His hand sought out hers and he tugged her closer, just as she'd done moments before. There was surprise in her eyes, but she moved as he directed, curling up against him.

Settled, Dean closed his eyes, focusing on the whole and very alive body resting against him. He'd come back from the future with one goal in mind: changing it. He'd do whatever it took to stop the devastation he'd been shown from happening—well, everything but say 'yes' to Michael. Finding the Colt was number one on his to-do list, but he still feared for the two members of his hunting party.

Besides keeping them close and as safe as possible, he wasn't sure what more he could do. All he knew was he never wanted to see their eyes flash with evil again. And that meant keeping Sam from ever saying yes to Lucifer and Chloe from getting possessed.

He could do that.

* * *

"You should get a tattoo."

Chloe raised an eyebrow at Dean, confused by his sudden declaration. She looked between him and the motel door he'd just reentered. "Come again?"

"An anti-possession tattoo," he explained, but Chloe was still thrown by the suddenness of his statement. The storm had passed minutes earlier and the three of them had been preparing to hit the road again. She didn't realize anything but the Colt hunt had been on Dean's mind.

"Sure, I guess it couldn't hurt," she agreed. She spotted Sam through the open door. He stood next to the Impala, waiting. "Next town we stop in, we'll make sure there's a decent tattoo parlor."

"Okay." Dean nodded, looking minutely relieved. "Good."

He moved to leave, but Chloe caught his arm, stopping him. "Dean, what is this all about?"

"I just want you to be safe."

"Thanks for the newsflash," she deadpanned.

He studied her, and she thought—hoped—he was going to give her something. But instead, he shook his head and stepped out of her grip. "We should get you a tattoo before we leave town. Just in case. I saw a parlor down the road."

She wanted to grab him again and force an explanation. She'd just spent a month dancing around his brother's barriers to try and find an opening, and she wasn't in the mood for another month of dancing.

It was Dean, though, and he was just as stubborn as his brother.

"Fine. We'll go now." Feeling a spark of childish annoyance, she shouldered past him and out the door. Outside, Sam met her gaze curiously, but she just shook her head. There was no use rehashing Dean's behavior.

Dean walked out behind her, seemingly oblivious to the annoyance aimed at him. He moved to his driver's seat, and Chloe stood in front of hers, watching him. "You two should get something to eat, while I get inked. It might take a while."

"Inked?" Sam repeated.

"Insurance policy," Chloe explained. "Dean thought it was time I got a matching tattoo."

"Oh." He nodded slowly, looking between the two of them. "Alright."

Dean opened his door then paused, catching Chloe's attention. "You have a picture of the tattoo, right?"

She frowned at him, making sure her annoyance was known. "I've got it covered, Dean."

He held up his hands. "Okay, okay." He nodded towards his brother. "Let's go," he said then slid inside.

"Good luck," Chloe offered as Sam opened the passenger door to join him.

"You too."

* * *

There had been a time in his life when being ambushed by a demon would have surprised him. Now, though, Sam was pretty sure he would have been surprised if they _hadn't_ been ambushed. As it was, he was a little surprise there was only one demon. The lead was a bust. The Colt wasn't there, only a demon. One very confident looking demon.

"We've been looking for you, Sam," the demon said, stepping closer to where he was pinned against a wall. Always against a wall. Another fact that no longer surprised him. "Looks like I win."

He glared at the demon, currently inhabiting a small red-headed woman. Part of him wanted to spit out something witty, the part of him that was too much like his brother for anyone's good. Instead, he focused on the other part and let the exorcism flow without hesitation. The demon twitched in pain, distracted enough that it didn't notice Chloe's entrance until Holy Water was sizzling off its skin.

It yelled in pain and annoyance, and Sam kept chanting long enough for Chloe to replace the Holy Water with a shotgun. As the demon hissed, she leveled the gun at the demon's chest.

Then hesitated.

It was only for a moment, but that was all it took. The demon glared, cutting Sam's exorcism off with one hand and throwing Chloe against the wall with the other. The shotgun fell to the floor, and Sam grimaced against the tightness in his throat.

"Just can't shoot me, can you?" the demon taunted, crossing her arms and looking completely disappointed. "You wouldn't have hurt her," it continued, gesturing to its body. "She's already dead."

Sam watched Chloe's face pale slightly and longed for the use of voice—if only to hurl a useless insult at the demon.

"_Christo_," Chloe grunted, her voice tight with a pain it took Sam a moment to understand. She was pinned just like him, a position that was more annoying than painful, but he had no doubt her fresh tattoo was making her position a lot more painful.

The demon's eyes flashed with the word then it smirked. "She's got some spirit," it acknowledged, meeting Sam's gaze like it was sharing a secret. "I like it."

"Oh goody," Chloe muttered, rolling her eyes in a way that reminded Sam of his brother. In any other situation, he would have smiled at the similarity, amused that his brother was rubbing off on her. As it was, he just flinched against his tight throat and willed his brother to make an appearance already.

The abandoned house they'd expected the Colt to be stationed in wasn't big. Dean had to have heard the thump of bodies hitting walls from wherever he was stationed. It was only a matter of—

_'Bout time,_ he thought, recognizing movement beyond the demon.

"_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus omnis satanica potestas…_" The exorcism tumbled out of Chloe's mouth as easily as it had Sam's, and he willed the distraction to work.

Behind the demon, Dean lunged forward, stabbing Ruby's knife into its back then pulling it out and doing it again for good measure.

Sam stumbled to his feet as the demon's hold died with it and held out a hand to steady Chloe. "You okay?" he asked, his hand hovering over her newly inked shoulder blade.

"Fine," she agreed, though her teeth clenched at the statement. "Just don't pat me on the back anytime soon."

"I told you a chest tattoo would be better," Dean said, gesturing for them to leave.

Chloe shook her head, following closely. "That would have limited my clothing choices to high-collared t-shirts and turtlenecks."

"Oh." Dean paused thoughtfully. "Never mind."

* * *

Dean met Sam outside their motel room, giving him an appreciative nod as he took the offered coffee. "How long do you think she'll take?" he asked, nodding towards the café Chloe had headed to earlier, insisting on grabbing them a decent breakfast before they hit the road.

"Doesn't look busy. Probably shouldn't take long."

He nodded. "Good. I'm starving."

He expected a comment from Sam, a tease about his bottomless pit of a brother or the fact that he was _always_ starving, but none came. Instead, Sam adjusted his position on the Impala's hood, watching their closed motel room. "She hesitated," he said, confusing Dean for a moment. "She had a clear shot of the demon, and she hesitated. It was just rock salt," he added in a way that should have been insulting, but was only matter-of-fact.

Dean had missed the beginning of the demon attack, only coming in for the last act, but he understood what Sam was talking about. He'd seen the discarded shotgun and heard their report. "I seem to recall a time when you would have hesitated before aiming a gun at another human, possessed or not," he pointed out, wondering just how long gone that version of his little brother was.

"Yeah, I guess. That doesn't make her actions any less dangerous, though."

"I know." Dean spotted the woman in question making her way to them. "But we've got her back. We won't let anything happen to her."

It was a weak promise, one the two of them had made to each other more than once and had been forced to break just as often. Sam didn't argue, though. "No. We won't."

"Pancakes," Chloe announced, once she was within earshot. She walked up to them and smiled, holding out two paper bags. "And if we hurry, they might still be hot."

"This was supposed to be food to go," Dean said, imagining butter and syrup sticking to his car's seats.

Chloe shared a look with Sam and shrugged. "Oops," she muttered, sounding anything but apologetic.

Sam stifled a laugh, and Dean frowned, feeling like the butt of their joke. Before he could worry too much, Chloe handed Sam a bag and grabbed Dean's hand, pulling him into the motel room. "Sitting down for breakfast won't kill you, Dean. I promise."

He wanted to argue and point out the daylight they were burning, but Chloe was smiling and Sam was mirroring her, and those two facts gave him pause.

During his trip to the future, Dean had never questioned the _why_ or _how_ when it came to the partnership Sam and Chloe had formed. Watching them now, he was reminded of the candid photo he'd found tucked away in Bobby's journal. It had comforted him at first. Now, though, all he thought of was the distinct lack of _him_ in the photo.

If he was going to change their future, it had to be _their_ future. All of them, together.

Chloe seemed to notice his inner monologue, because she squeezed his hand, bringing his thoughts back to the present. "You okay?" she asked, her eyes wide with the same concern she'd been showing for the last two weeks. She knew something was on his mind and she wanted him to open up.

Well, if he was going to change the future…

"Sit down," he directed. Obediently, Sam and Chloe sat at the table, watching him expectantly. "There's something I need to tell you…"

To Be Continued…

* * *

**A/N:** My original goal was to have this series caught up before tonight (and the new SPN episode). Unfortunately, that didn't happen. So now, my new goal is to just get as far as I can before heading off to study abroad. I don't know how far that will be (hopefully up to episode 10, at least), but I just wanted to give everyone a heads up...

Anyway, hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading. ;D


	64. Super Friends

_Before…_

Clark offered her a tight smile, gesturing towards Bobby's home. "How did your friends take my secret?"

Chloe smirked, remembering the startled exclamations over the phone that had been followed by wide-eyed stares once they'd reached Bobby's house. "Well," she said. "Not much startles them these days."

"Good."

* * *

He smirked. "You don't give yourself enough credit, Chloe."

She brushed his comment away with a wave of her hand. "Whatever, Clark. As soon as you make like the DeLorean this conversation won't matter."

"Yes it will," Clark said. "I'll remember."

Chloe grabbed his arm, commanding his full attention. "In that case, remember this: I'm safe with these men, kiss or no kiss. I promise."

"Doing what, exactly?" Clark pressed.

She shrugged. "Saving the world."

* * *

"Davis was twisted, even as a human," Oliver stated.

She nodded slowly, not letting herself dwell on the what-ifs. Her life was too full of them. "What happened to him?"

The team hesitated, making her dread the answer. "He's dead," Dinah said finally, looking to Oliver.

Chloe followed her gaze, watching Oliver's eyes lower briefly. "We tried to save him, but he was already broken beyond repair," he said by way of explaining.

* * *

"It's a dangerous world you're coming into. Not even Superman can handle the hell that's out there."

"Superman?"

Dean turned to the door. "Have Chloe explain, when you get back."

* * *

_Now…_

With a grunt, Sam stabbed Ruby's knife into the demon's chest, watching it flicker in death. There was a shotgun blast at the other end of the room, and he felt a small sense of relief, knowing the sound meant Chloe was defending herself against the demons.

He looked up and his relief vanished. Chloe had her gun aimed for another shot, but the demon was already charging. It knocked the gun from her hands and lunged forward.

"Chloe!" He was moving on instinct, the knife ready for another strike as he watched the demon drive Chloe to the ground. Peripherally, he saw Dean stiffen at his cry, but his brother had his own demon to handle.

Chloe was already gasping beneath the demon's iron grip, by the time Sam was within striking distance. He shoved the knife forward, anticipating the feel of the knife driving home.

And stabbed air.

The movement sent him stumbling, but he quickly regained his footing, spinning and scanning the area Chloe and the demon had just been. There was no one there. They'd vanished.

"What the…"

* * *

Chloe barely had time to register the change from hands around her throat to a familiar arm around her waist, before they were both gone and she was standing on her own. The rush wasn't one she was completely used to, but she'd experienced it enough to know who was responsible. "Clark," she acknowledged, once her equilibrium had settled enough for her to recognize the figure in front of her.

Her friend had both arms wrapped around the body of the demon who'd just tried choking the life out of her. The demon twisted in his grip, trying to break free and failing. "Hold him," Chloe ordered, earning a non-verbal _ya think?_ from Clark.

She ignored it and started chanting. "_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus_…" After months of practice, the exorcism came easy. It took longer than using the Colt or Ruby's knife, but she still preferred it. At least an exorcism offered a chance of survival for the host. As she spoke, she reached into her coat pocket, pulling out the flask Dean had stuffed in there earlier and coated the demon in a spray of Holy Water. It shrieked in pain from the water and the Latin, twisting with more force.

"…_Gloria Patri_," Chloe finished, watching with little satisfaction as the demon was expelled to Hell.

Clark shifted quickly to catch the collapsed man, his fingers settling on his neck. "He's alive."

"He'll be fine. Just scarred for life, probably," she mused darkly, feeling a spark of sympathy for the man's future.

Clark set the man down and stepped forward, grabbing Chloe by the shoulders. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern shining in his eyes.

She almost laughed at the sight, _wanted_ to laugh at the sight, but held back. She'd save her judgment for later. "I'm fine, Clark. It didn't hurt me." _Much_, she added mentally, hoping the pain in her neck wouldn't translate to an uncomfortable bruise. "Nice timing."

"Yeah, well, nice…" he trailed off, gesturing over the unconscious man and the scene he'd just taken part in.

"Exorcism," Chloe supplied. "That was an exorcism."

There was a pause, and Chloe waited, letting her words register with him.

"You…that was a…a demon!"

She bit lip to keep from smiling at him. Part of her wondered if she'd worn the same expression when she'd first encountered a demon. "This is going to involve a long explanation, isn't it?" she asked.

"Um…" He nodded slowly. "Yeah, I'd say so."

She pursed her lips, imaging Clark's reaction to what she did with the Winchesters. It wasn't pretty. Oliver's team knew a bit about the things in the dark, at least enough to keep them safe on a mission, but Clark still hadn't been given the insider's look.

But there was no point in keeping it from him anymore. He couldn't stop her from working with the brothers, especially not after his recent disappearing act.

Speaking of the Winchesters, she glanced back at the recently possessed man, relieved to see him stirring finally and turned to Clark. "I need to get back. They're going to be worried."

"I want answers," Clark argued, stubbornness settling over his features.

Chloe crossed her arms, mirroring him. "If you aren't going to bring me back, I'll find my own way. We aren't that far out, are we?" she asked, surveying the area around them. The warehouse they'd found the demons in wasn't nearby, but the deserted street she now stood on looked to be in the same neighborhood.

She pulled out her cell phone and glared at the _no signal_ flashing in the corner. "Shocker," she muttered, tucking the useless equipment in her pocket and turning back to Clark. "So?"

"What about him?" Clark asked, gesturing to the man who was still more unconscious than not.

"Can you get him to the hospital…?" He was gone before she was done talking, a burst of wind announcing his departure. She shook her head and bit back a smile, when he returned within a minute.

"He's safe."

"Good, now get me back," she ordered then gave him a half-smile. "Please?"

Clark studied her for a beat, a mixture of emotions playing across his face. It was strange watching it, after spending so much time with two of the most closed-off men she'd ever met. She almost smiled, when his face settled on something in the vicinity of affection. "I missed you, Chloe," he admitted as he stepped closer, moving to scoop her into his arms for the trip back.

There was a sharp comment on her tongue, a reference to his recent absence and lack of proof to back up his statement, but she swallowed it. "Yeah," she agreed. "Me too."

* * *

Dean didn't even register the fact he was pacing until his brother stepped into his path, stopping him abruptly. "Where is she?" he demanded, before Sam could speak.

Sam didn't answer, because he had no answer. Demons didn't vanish, at least not some lower level demon. And as far as either of them knew, Chloe hadn't suddenly developed the power of teleportation. "Castiel?" Sam suggested with a weak shrug.

"He didn't know we were here," Dean argued. "And he couldn't find us with our angel-repellent."

Before either of them could come up with another weak theory, there was a burst of wind and Chloe was back, just as suddenly as she had vanished. Only her reappearance was sans a demon and plus a familiar face. "Clark?" Sam said, because he could remember a name better than Dean.

Chloe pushed against the Clark's chest, forcing him to set her on her feet. "You didn't have to drop me right in front of them," she stage-whispered, shooting him a disapproving look.

Clark didn't seem fazed, just nodded towards Dean and Sam. "I think they'll keep my secret."

Dean took in the taller man, wondering just how many of Chloe's friends had superpowers. After all the time he'd spent training her to be a hunter and introducing her to the strangeness of the supernatural, it was often easy to forget that she had led a life just as _unique_. And then there were times when reminders of her past came super-speeding in, making it impossibly hard to forget.

"Wait," Sam started, pulling Dean from his thoughts. "Are you Impulse? I thought he was shorter?"

Chloe smiled at his words, shaking her head. "No, he's not Impulse."

"I've got a few more superpowers than him," Clark agreed, and just like that Chloe's smile disappeared. She cocked an eyebrow as she looked up at him, _what the hell?_ written clearly on her face, and he mirrored her, undaunted.

Amused and amazed, Dean looked between the two friends, wondering who would crack first. As he watched them, something clicked and he studied Clark more closely. During his trip to the future, his older self had made reference to a superhero named Superman. _"Have Chloe explain when you get back."_ Aside from the vague mention of his clearly impressive powers and his connection to Chloe, Dean hadn't learned anything about the superhero. And he'd never thought to ask Chloe about him, forgetting that piece of information in lieu of some other scarier facts from the future.

He couldn't be certain, but watching Clark and imagining what he meant by _a few more superpowers_, Dean had a feeling he'd just met mysterious hero.

Probably. Maybe.

"Superman?" he ventured, because there was only one way to find out.

Clark turned his gaze onto Dean and frowned in confusion. "No, The Blur."

"Oh." Dean nodded then rested a hand on Chloe's shoulder, giving her a small smile. "So, what are your powers?"

There were times the uniqueness of Chloe's life outside of hunting was forgotten, but when it came up Dean was always interested. Then again, there wasn't much about her that didn't interest him.

* * *

_"So, what are your powers?"_

He hadn't planned it—which probably made it worse—but the moment Dean asked him, Clark told them about his powers. And he didn't really have a good excuse for doing so. He'd spent most of his life hiding his abilities and lying when confronted about them, but he opened up as soon as Dean asked.

He wasn't worried, though. History was on his side with this choice. The Winchesters could handle his secret. They'd done so before.

And, in a way, he was doing it for Chloe. He knew what it meant to keep his secret from people she was close to, the strain it had put on her relationship with Jimmy. His secret would be safe with the Winchesters, and it would help Chloe in the long run. She wasn't the only one who looked out for her friends.

As he listed his abilities, the brothers' eyes grew wide with interest while Chloe's slanted in confusion and, probably, annoyance. He was almost expecting it, when she grabbed his hand and pulled him out of earshot once he was done talking. "Why did you do that?" she asked, though her tone was less annoyed than he would have guessed.

"Why? Don't you trust them?" he countered, half serious.

"With my life," she said automatically.

"Then don't worry about it," he assured, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Besides, they took it pretty well last time."

Chloe paused, processing his words. "Last time?"

"Linda Lake threatened to expose me last year," he started, and Chloe nodded.

"I remember, but you got her arrested first and then she was murdered at the hospital."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't so lucky the first time around. I heard she was going to expose me, so I decided to expose myself on my own terms. But it went south fast. Linda managed to convince the media that I was a threat and they were going to hunt me down," Clark explained, watching realization show in Chloe's eyes.

"So, you went back in time and changed that." It wasn't a question.

"I had to."

She didn't argue, only nodded in understanding, and he felt a part of him he hadn't known was worried relax. She still trusted him enough to know he'd make the right choice about time-travel. "And Sam and Dean just accepted it, last time?"

"I don't know the details, but you said they took it well. I think after dealing with things like demons, an alien wasn't much of a stretch," Clark explained. He saw his chance to change the subject and took it. "Speaking of demons, is that what this new partnership is all about? Hunting demons?"

"Demons. Ghosts. Vampires. The occasional crypto-reject." She listed the monsters like she used to talk about alien-apocalypses and meteor-mutations, and Clark wasn't sure if he should feel proud or worried. "Apparently the things that go bump in the night are real, who knew?" she mused.

* * *

"So, who's Superman?" Sam asked, after watching Clark and Chloe walk off to talk in private.

His question pulled Dean's attention away from the doorway the duo had just disappeared through. "Someone future-me mentioned. He didn't tell me much, but I got the feeling Superman was pretty powerful, except when it came to a Croatoan-apocalypse."

"And you thought he was Clark?" Sam asked, though, considering what Clark had just told them, it wasn't much of a stretch.

Dean twisted his mouth thoughtfully. "It was just a guess. Future-me said to ask Chloe about Superman when I got back. Like he was a friend of hers. And we've met all of her other super-powered friends. I think," he added.

Sam nodded in agreement, thinking back to the month they had shared an apartment and Chloe had spent a good portion of her time working as Watchtower. "She hasn't mentioned any new recruits."

Dean grunted in response, looking thoughtful again, and Sam expected a serious comment from his mouth. Instead, his brother's lips twitched with interest. "Do you think she's ever met Batman?"

Sam bit back a laugh, shaking his head in more amusement than disbelief. "I don't think so, Dean."

"It'd be cool if she had."

Sam thought of the few reports he'd found about the night-prowler and his single-handed attempts to stop crime in Gotham, deciding he didn't quite share Dean's enthusiasm. But, if it as exciting for Dean, he'd play along. "Yeah. It would be."

* * *

Silence settled over them, once Chloe finished telling Clark about her life as a hunter. She hadn't mentioned Lucifer's rise or the resulting Apocalypse, but she knew it was for the best. She didn't need Clark worrying about something he couldn't fix. Her friend was amazingly powerful, but against the forces of Hell she had not doubt he would lose.

"What happened after Doomsday?" she asked finally, watching him carefully. "Why did you leave?"

"You heard about Davis?" he asked, and she nodded. "After we separated him, something must have snapped inside him. He ran off while we were distracted by Doomsday, and by the time I found him, he'd already murdered two people. No reason, just cold-blooded thoughtless murder." Clark swallowed thickly, and Chloe reached over to grab his arm. "I had to stop him."

It was Chloe's turn to swallow as she felt sympathy well up for Clark. "I'm sorry," she said honestly.

Clark acknowledged her with a small nod. "I decided after that that it was time to finally start my training. I just needed to get away. Put humanity behind me for a while." His mouth quirked. "I was never good at staying gone, though."

"No you weren't," she agreed. "And I'm glad, because if there's one thing I've learned from my time hunting it's that humanity needs someone like you just as much as it needs someone like the Winchesters. They've got the ghosts and ghouls covered, but humans can be just as dangerous." She squeezed his arm as she spoke. "But being a crime-fighter doesn't mean you need to distance yourself from humanity. There is such a thing as an alter-ego, you know."

"Clark Kent by day."

"And The Blur by night," Chloe finished. "And as long as you don't start lurking in shadows wearing black like a certain pointy-eared hero, I'd say you'll be fine."

Clark chuckled at that, but nodded. "I think so too."

* * *

When Chloe returned to their part of the warehouse, she was alone. "He had work to do," she explained at their curious looks.

"Did he say why he was here in the first place? I thought he'd been MIA for a while?" Sam asked as the three of them made their way out of the building.

"Comeback tour." She smiled wryly. "He was checking up on his friends, after deciding to join society again."

"Nice timing."

"That's what I said," she agreed.

They reached the Impala and Dean paused in front of his door, watching Chloe over the roof. "Any more superhero friends we should look out for?" he asked, keeping his interest in check.

"Nope." She shook her head then paused, a wry smile pulling at her face. "Just you two." She ducked into the back seat before either could respond, amused embarrassment flashing over her features before they were hidden in the car.

Dean shared a look with his brother. "Think we should get our own costumes?"

To Be Continued...

* * *

**A/N2:** And with this chapter, I've officially reached 50 episodes of CK (not counting the numerous webisodes I've posted, of course). I realized I was going to reach 50 episodes a while ago and had planned an important series-changing moment to celebrate the milestone. Unfortunately, my ability to count had been on the fritz that day and, as a result, the "moment" will not take place until the next episode. But, who says you can't celebrate the fifty-first episode instead of the fiftieth?

Until then, I just want to say _Thank You!_ to all my readers. You guys are great, and I never would have continued this far in the series if it weren't for you (so, I blame you all for that inevitable moment when CK warps my brain xD).


	65. AgeOld Question

_Before…_

"Still nothing?" Sam asked, as soon as she was in the hallway.

Chloe nodded, looking back at the man in the wheelchair. "I wish I could help him." She crossed her arms. "I_can_ help him."

"But Bobby will never go for that. Hell, I'm not sure I'm all that keen on the idea," Sam pointed out.

"It's my powers, my decision," she argued stubbornly.

Sam smiled wryly. "And when you tried that argument on Bobby he said…"

"No way," Chloe supplied. "Stubborn man."

Sam moved closer to her and rested a hand on her back. "It'll be okay."

"Sure," Chloe agreed lightly. "But will _he_ be?"

* * *

_Now…_

Dean hung up his phone then turned his attention to Chloe and Sam. They both looked at him expectantly and he shrugged. "Bobby says it's a legit case. Apparently age-manipulating card sharks are a pretty common tale."

"So we've just gotta find where he's playing and find a way to stop him," Sam said like it was that simple. They all knew it never was.

"Yeah. We've gotta split up, take different parts of town. This place is full of dives and who knows where the he-witch has set up base," Dean said, looking down the street they were on, already figuring out how to split the town best.

"Split up?" Chloe repeated, disbelief evident in her tone.

Dean looked back at her, eyebrows raised. "Yeah, we'll cover more ground. Why? Not up for it?"

"No, no." She shook her head quickly. "I'm up for it. I'm just surprised, I guess."

Dean knew why, without asking. He was well aware of the limits he'd put on Chloe, when it came to hunting. "It's just a little investigating," he argued. "If you find him, you don't go after him on your own. You get us."

She smiled, nodding her head in agreement. "Promise."

"Good." He shared a look with Sam, before returning his attention to Chloe. "But just remember, if _anything_ happens to you, you're going to be stuck on research duty permanently."

Her smile grew, and he wondered when his threats had lost their influence. "I'll be safe, Dean. It's just a little investigating." Tossing his words back at him, she turned and started walking in the opposite direction. "I'll take the north."

Sam chuckled as he stepped off the curb, turning to give Dean a quick wave. "See ya."

Dean stared after the two of them a moment then shook his head. They were lucky he liked them.

* * *

It took more than an hour for Chloe to find absolutely nothing. Disappointed, she returned to the motel. Sam had already called to tell her that he and Dean were coming to the end of their separate hunts for the witch, but things weren't looking promising. The witch was still elusive, and Chloe was starting to worry they had a long night of research ahead of them.

She just hoped Sam would remember to get her some coffee, when he grabbed dinner. The brothers might prefer beer with their meal, but if she was going to be burning the midnight oil digging, she needed caffeine.

The motel had been booked almost full by the time they had arrived, which meant Chloe's room was at the other end of the building. Instead of heading for it, she detoured to the Winchesters' room and the car parked in front. Dean was on his way back, she could wait with the Impala until then.

"I hate witches," she decided, sliding onto the Impala's hood and resting against the windshield. In a way, she was relieved to be working a case that didn't involve hunting down the Colt. They'd all needed the break to relax and regroup.

At the same time, though, she couldn't help worrying that they were wasting time going after non-apocalyptic hunts. The more time they spent not trying to kill Lucifer, the stronger he could become and the more chances he had at getting to Sam.

Heavy breathing behind the Impala pulled her from her thoughts. She turned, expecting to see an unfamiliar motel resident huffing his way back to his room after a long evening out. Instead, she spotted Dean walking towards her, his breath coming out heavy with each step.

She hopped off the hood, hurrying to his side. "Dean, are you injured?" she asked, already scanning his frame for obvious signs of injury.

"No," he assured. "Just a little winded."

The parking lot was badly lit, and she couldn't see his face to tell if he was lying. Taking him at his word, she didn't press just walked with him back to the motel room. "So, no luck with the witch hunt?"

He breathed a humorless laugh that had Chloe tensing. "You could say that," he agreed, entering the motel room.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked. She flipped on the light as she followed him inside, studying Dean's back like it held the answers. "Dean!" she pressed, when he didn't answer.

"I found the witch," he explained then turned to face her. The evidence she hadn't been able to spot in the dark parking lot was obvious now in the motel room. Grey-hair lined his temples and age-earned wrinkles sat at the edge of his mouth and eyes.

"You played?" she demanded, though, the evidence spoke for itself. Dean had either played and lost, or he'd just aged twenty years spontaneously.

"I had to," he argued, and Chloe knew it wasn't her imagination when the grey in his hair became more prominent.

"Why?" she asked, more out of instinct than anything. All she could think of was the aged-body of the twenty-five year old and how little time Dean had left. Dean was probably dying in front of her and she wasn't sure if she could do a thing to save him.

Dean shifted. "To save Bobby." The words were spoken in haste as he ducked inside the bathroom, leaving Chloe alone.

She glared after him a moment, ignoring her fear in lieu anger and pounded a fist on the door. "You better hope you age-well, Dean. I don't think I can cure old-age." The only response was the shower turning on and her glare deepened. "Or stupidity," she added.

As she fumed, the motel door opened and Sam walked inside, carrying dinner. "Any news?" He tossed her a burger, but she set it aside.

"Dean found the game."

Sam gestured for her to continue. "And?"

The shower had already stopped and she heard the bathroom door open behind her. "And he lost," she answered, watching Sam's eyes widen at the sight behind her. She really didn't want to look, afraid of the age she'd see in Dean's eyes. It couldn't be avoided, though, and she turned to face Dean, swallowing her worry.

_I really hate witches._

* * *

Sam knew breaking and entering better than most. He'd successfully snuck in and out of dozens of buildings over his lifetime with few problems. Unfortunately, adding a witch to the mix made things a lot trickier.

Of course, it didn't help that he had an eighty-year-old brother tagging along.

When the blonde woman caught them red-handed, Sam had almost been expecting it. Pessimistic or not.

"Aren't you the chick from the bar?" Dean asked, studying the woman. Chloe shared a look with Sam, neither of them recognized her.

"I'm a lot more than that," the woman assured and threw out her hand. Sam groaned, feeling like she was twisting his insides into a pretzel.

"It's alright, sweetheart," a new voice said suddenly, and the pain stopped just a fast. "They're harmless."

Sam frowned at the man standing in front of them, hardly surprised that the witch had made it back to the apartment before them—if he had even left. "You want chips?" Patrick asked, crossing his arms and looking remarkably friendly. "Take 'em. Their just chips, Einsteins. It's showmanship."

As the man spoke—effectively killing their plan with a simple reminder that he was a _witch_ and didn't need the chips to work his magic—his gaze kept straying over to Chloe, eyes studying her closer than he studied the brothers. Sam took a small step closer to her, his hand hovering at her back as if he could protect her from the witch's gaze by just standing there. "You want years? Score 'em the old fashioned way: Texas Hold 'em," the witch said, twirling a toothpick in his mouth.

"Fine," Dean agreed only to be turned down. Apparently the witch had standards and he wasn't willing to play a man who clearly wasn't capable.

"You on the other hand," Patrick bargained, pointing to Sam.

Dean shook his head instantly. "No Sam."

"Dean," he argued, knowing they didn't have another choice. If they couldn't steal Dean's years back, they'd have to win them. And if Dean could risk his years, so could Sam.

"What? Sam not much of a player?" Patrick guessed, mildly amused.

"He's not, but I am," Chloe said, taking a step forward. Sam couldn't see her face, but he knew from the set of her shoulders that it was neutral. She wasn't giving anything away. She could have been bluffing and no one would have been the wiser. He and Dean had taught her a lot since she'd joined them on the hunt, but lying was an art she'd known before she'd ever met them.

He still wasn't okay with her taking the gamble, though. If he couldn't risk his years in a poker game, there was no way he was letting Chloe.

Patrick frowned thoughtfully, before anyone could argue. "While that may be true, Lovely, it wouldn't be much of a risk for you to gamble your years away, now would it?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Chloe asked, and Sam saw her shoulders tense, neutrality gone from her stance.

"It means, I don't like cheating," he said simply then stepped back to open the front door. "Now, you're free to go."

Sam knew, Chloe wanted to argue, because he felt the same way. They couldn't just leave empty-handed, but they had to. Disappointed, they followed Dean out into the hallway, only pausing when Patrick called to them.

"I believe Dean's suffered enough, but I can't let you two leave without a small parting gift."

* * *

Bobby watched the trio trudge out of the apartment building, no doubt having failed in their mission. From where he sat in his van, he could tell something was wrong with the two curse-free members of the group. Sam looked like he had ants in his pants, or a bad itch he really wasn't willing to scratch in mixed company. And Chloe was looking a little pale. Her arms were crossed tightly, but even Bobby could see the small shivers running through her frame.

As she walked, her arms loosened until she was resting a hand on her stomach, suddenly looking more green than pale. Dean seemed to finally notice her discomfort and reached for her arm, only to have her push past him and fall to her knees at the edge of the sidewalk, heaving into the grass.

Bobby winced in sympathy, wondering just what kind of trouble they'd run into. "Idjits…"

* * *

The Swine Flu.

She'd wanted to laugh, when Sam had decided that was what the witch had given her. She had, in fact, tried to laugh, only to have it shift into a coughing fit that left her exhausted and trembling. "Can we please kill the witch?" she begged, once she could speak again.

"Working on it," Bobby assured. He wheeled over and handed her a dose of medicine, only a small pull of worry on his face. She had to assume she looked pretty terrible if he looked even that worried.

"Thanks," she said, letting it count for the assurance and the medicine. She took the dose then fell back onto her bed, trying to keep her body from shivering too much. She hated feeling so weak, especially by something as mundane as the flu.

She drifted as a blanket was settled over her, helping her untense and ease a bit more into the bed's old springs. The voices of the rest of her group hovered around her, and she felt a rough hand against her cheek then heard the door open and the room go quiet.

Just as she thought she'd been left alone in her misery, the bed shifted under more weight, and she blinked up to see Sam sitting next to her. She coughed then groaned, wishing pain to all witches everywhere. "Sam, do me a favor," she said as he placed a cool cloth on her forehead, no doubt to fight the fever she could feel coursing through her body.

"Yeah?"

"Put me out of my misery," she pleaded, only half-joking.

She heard Sam's sharp intake of breath and suddenly felt guilty. Apparently her sense of humor was lacking when she was sick. Turning towards him, she realized his focus was no longer on her. He tugged at his jeans in an obvious attempt to avoid scratching what he _really_ wanted to scratch. "Me first," he grumbled, noticing her attention focused on him.

Chloe shifted onto her side, offering him a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry," she said, resting a hand on his leg. She was tired, just wanted to sleep and plot the witch's demise. Sam needed to talk, though, to ignore his own curse while venting his irritation. She could listen. It was what she did, and she didn't have anywhere to be.

"The worst part is, they won't let me play," Sam admitted, looking across the room with annoyance. "I'm a grown man. I can make my own decisions. I should be able to put my life on the line for my own brother."

Chloe nodded in understanding, remembering the feeling of defeat when her own offer to take on the witch had been turned down. She'd had a chance to save Dean and had been flat-out refused. Patrick's statement on cheating still confused her, but she'd worry about analyzing it later—when thinking wasn't conflicted by congestion.

"We'll save him," she promised, not feeling as sure as her statement. She was laid out with the flu that left her head foggy, and Sam couldn't think much beyond the itch he really couldn't scratch. The only other option they had besides another game of poker was her powers, and she didn't think they cured old age—at least she assumed they wouldn't.

Not that it would matter, since Dean would never let her close enough to even try. If Sam couldn't put his years on the line for him, there was no way Chloe was going to be allowed to.

"I know we—Chloe?" Sam yelped, something close to nervous surprise in his voice. "Stop!" he snapped, his hand clamping down on hers.

His tone cut through her thoughts, pulling her attention to their clasped hands long enough for her to notice the dying glow. Was that her powers? Had she just…?

Rapid-fire conclusions were attempting to be drawn in a brain that just didn't want to work that fast. It made her head hurt and her stomach roll, until she was scrambling out of the bed and past Sam at a speed she never would have guessed she was capable. She was vaguely aware of the fact she'd managed to shut the bathroom door behind her, before the nausea hit and she had other worries.

She clung to the toilet, ignoring the questions circling her mind. _How had she healed Sam, when she hadn't meant to? Did that mean her powers were beyond her control?_

_What kind of damage was healing Sam going to do to her already cursed body?_

* * *

Sam paced, blocking out the sounds coming from the bathroom. He didn't need the reminder. He already knew what was happening. Chloe had healed him, adding his curse to the one she already had running through her system. And the result wasn't pretty.

He waited until the sound of sickness stopped then knocked gently. "Chloe?"

"Give me a minute," she mumbled, barely audible through the door. The toilet flushed, the faucet turned on, and Sam waited, ignoring the unease eating at him. Chloe couldn't keep pulling the healing card whenever one of them was hurt. She wasn't their personal deus ex machina. Healing them hurt her, and Sam was tired of having others pain falling on his shoulders.

The door opened as his thoughts circled on the _what if_s. "Sam?" Chloe started, sounding scared and worried and everything he had been feeling the last few minutes.

He grabbed her shoulders, studying her for physical evidence of the problems her powers had caused. "What's wrong?" he asked finally, when he couldn't find anything. She looked healthy, but looks could be deceiving.

"Nothing." She shook her head in surprise. "Nothing's wrong. I'm fine." The statement would have put him more at ease if it hadn't been accompanied by the worry in her eyes. "I'm healed."

Before Sam could figure out what that meant, the motel door opened, and Dean and Bobby entered. The _older_ men paused, their expressions mirroring the ones Sam knew he and Chloe were wearing.

"Witch's mojo wear off?" Dean asked, looking from the bed Chloe had been curled up in earlier to the clearly healthy woman standing in front of him. He shot his brother a pointed look, which Sam returned with a nod _no idea_ and _I'm fine, too_ all in one.

"I'll explain later," Chloe said. "What's up?"

"That he-witch's girlfriend gave us a reversal spell. She says if we use it everyone will go back to normal, including her and her boyfriend," Dean explained, handing the spell to Chloe. Sam read it over her shoulder.

"And you believe her?" Sam asked.

"She seemed sincere enough, and we've got no other options." Dean frowned at Sam. "Besides you playing a hand," he amended. "Which ain't gonna happen."

"Actually," Bobby cut in. "That's not such a bad idea." At their surprised looks, he continued. "This witch is smart. He caught us last time we tried to cheat him. We'll need to distract him, if we're going to get this spell off without a hitch."

"So I stall him?"

"Yes, until we get the spell done."

"And Sammy," Dean said, stepping closer to his brother. "Don't lose."

* * *

Getting in and out of the witch's apartment was much easier the second time, even with the elevator still out of order. Chloe made in and out in record time, handing her find to the members of her party, waiting across the street in Bobby's van.

"There you go," she said, as Dean took the two containers through the passenger window. "Witch's DNA. That's a half-empty glass of wine and both toothbrushes from the apartment. One of them should work, I hope." The rest of the needed supplies had already been obtained. All that was left was finishing the spell.

"Are you doing the spell here?" she asked as Dean examined the items.

"There's an alley around the block," Bobby said. "We can work back there. I've got everything we need in the back of the van."

"Okay, good." She nodded and gestured down the street. "I'll head down to the bar and check on Sam. You two stay away and work the spell. We don't need the witch catching on to the plan."

"Since when do you tell us what to do?" Dean asked, only half-joking.

Chloe didn't even pause. "Since now," she answered then turned and took off down the street.

Dean eyed Bobby. "She's getting cocky."

"Gee, I wonder where she gets _that_ from."

* * *

The game was progressing at a slow pace, the tension in the room nearly palpable as Sam progressively lost years with each hand. He wasn't sure how long it was supposed to take for the spell to be finished, much less work. There had been no timeframe discussed. He was on his own, without any answers, playing the percentages and hoping he wouldn't lose all his years before the spell worked.

He was just starting to think the spell had failed, when something changed. It wasn't obvious, more like a feeling than a visual confirmation, but Sam let himself hope for the first time since he'd sat down to play poker. His hope raised a fraction, when Patrick frowned and set his cards down.

"What did you do?" Patrick demanded. All attempts at civility gone in an instant. He reached over and clenched his fist, squeezing Sam's throat without laying a hand on him.

"Sam!" a voice called from behind Sam as Patrick's girlfriend grabbed his arm, breaking the invisible hold.

"Patrick, stop!" she demanded. "I did it."

Sam gasped, catching his breath. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up at Chloe. She nodded at his unspoken question, and he gave into relief. Dean was safe.

"I gave them the spell." Already, Sam could see the effects of the reversal spell working. Grey stained the couple's hair, and the wrinkle's on Patrick's face deepened as he looked from his partner to Chloe then back.

"Why?" he asked, emotion breaking his voice in a way Sam didn't think was capable from a witch.

By now, the woman was on her knees, age twisting her slowly but surely. "It was time."

Sam locked eyes with Chloe, unsure about what to do with the scene in front of them.

"I love you, and I'm sorry," the woman continued. "But this isn't natural."

Sam turned back in time to see an aged Patrick nod and the woman collapse, her lost years attacking her body until there was nothing left. He expected Patrick to follow suit, but was only a little surprised when he didn't. The witch finally returned his attention to him and Chloe, and shook his head, the grey hair and wrinkles stopping in their advance on his face.

"Nine-hundred years," he explained as his hair grew darker and the wrinkles vanished. "I've learned a bit." He locked eyes with Chloe, and Sam stood, reaching for her arm in a vain attempt to keep her from harm. "Not everyone should fear death," he said simply, like he was offering free advice to complete strangers.

"Why not?" Chloe asked, uncertainty evident in her tone and stance.

"Because for some, it will never be permanent," Patrick explained. The affects of the spell were completely gone from his features. "Am I right?"

Sam felt Chloe stiffen beneath his grip, but she didn't answer and he didn't say a word. There was nothing to say to that loaded question.

Patrick didn't seem to want an answer. His gaze darkened again and he nodded towards the door. "Now would be the time for you two to leave. As much as I'd love to kill you for what you've done, I won't. Lia wouldn't want me to." They started backing towards the door as the witch continued.

"But if I ever see you again, I won't be so charitable."

* * *

Dean found her standing in front of the bathroom mirror, studying her reflection with a level of intensity that rivaled most. "Looking for something?" he asked, standing behind her and watching her reflection.

Their reflections locked eyes as she gave him a half-smile. "Do I look older to you?" she asked.

"Should you?" he countered, his worry edging up a notch. She and Sam had made it away from the witch without any problems. He was hoping it would stay that way.

She shook her head, returning her attention to her own reflection. "No, I guess not," she said. Her lips pursed and she fingered the edges of her mouth, looking like a middle-aged woman checking for wrinkles.

"Is this about what the witch said?" he guessed. His hand reached out to rest on her shoulder, offering the only support he had. He didn't know anything about her powers, not enough to be of any real encouragement.

"Yeah, in a way." She frowned thoughtfully as he turned her so she was facing him. "I know he was probably just trying to mess with my head, but I can't help worrying he might have been right, at least a little. I mean, look at what happened. I was practically dead on my feet from the swine flu, I accidentally heal Sam and _bam_ I'm cured. Good as new."

"That just means you can cure yourself. That doesn't make you immortal," Dean reasoned, when really he had no idea if he was right.

"Maybe."

"Probably," Dean bargained. He smiled slow and easy, watching it have the desired affect.

When she smiled back, he relaxed and nodded towards the door. "Ready to go?"

"In a minute," she said. "I want to talk to Bobby, first."

* * *

Dean's speech on his importance had been unexpected, but when Chloe made her way into his motel room, he wasn't really surprised. If it weren't for the fact that they'd been on a race to save Dean from an early grave, he knew she would have confronted him sooner.

"You can save the motivational speech," Bobby said as soon as she shut the door and stepped inside. "Dean already gave it to me."

"Motivational isn't exactly what I had in mind," she admitted, her tone light despite the darker look in her eyes. It wasn't anger, though, only disappointment and maybe a little hurt.

He wasn't sure what to make of that combination. "Chloe," he started, attempting to cut off her argument before she could get started.

Unfortunately, she was a little faster than he was.

"Let me help you," she demanded, sitting down heavy on the bed across from him. "Let me heal you."

"No." The answer was automatic and just as sincere as it had been the first time he'd denied her request.

She frowned. "So, you'll gamble with a witch on the slim chance that you can get your legs back, but you won't even attempt something that's pretty much guaranteed to work?" she asked, annoyance heavy in her words.

"Guaranteed at what cost to you?" Bobby pressed, matching her tone and frown. He was older and years more stubborn.

"If there's any risk, it'll be temporary," Chloe assured. She gestured to herself as she spoke. "Look at me, Bobby. I was sick with the flu and then I healed Sam and I'm as good as new."

"His problem and mine aren't exactly the same thing, incase you couldn't tell."

There was a stubbornness in her eyes that he would have sworn she'd picked up from the Winchesters. It was that look that he'd learned to loath over the years. It meant trouble. "I've healed the dying. I can heal the crippled." Her hand reached out and gripped his armrest, locking him in place as she spoke. "Please, Bobby. Let me help you."

"You know, if you do this, Dean's little speech he gave me will be mostly pointless. He might not like that," he said, not committing either way. It would be a lie to say he wasn't tempted to take her offer. He understood Dean's point and knew that as much as his handicap was a burden, it didn't mean he was useless. That didn't mean he didn't want out of the wheelchair, though.

He just couldn't risk Chloe.

"He'll live," Chloe stated, her hand shifting from his armrest to hover over his legs. "_I'll_ live." Her hand landed on his knee. "I promise."

Sending a prayer to a god he'd never really believed in, Bobby grasped her hand and nodded.

To Be Continued…

* * *

**A/N:** Once again, I'm going to have to put this series on a hiatus. I leave for Australia tomorrow, and I don't know when I'll be able to update again. I'm sure once I'm settled at school for the semester I'll be back online, but even then I may not have the time to update. I really enjoy where I think this series is going (especially with the AU-course this chapter took), so I won't give up on it. If anything, I'll just have to play catch-up come summer break.

Until then, thank you for reading!


	66. Guest Star

**A/N:** I'm back! I can't promise a regular posting, because it's summer and my schedule is unpredictable, but I hope to have this season finished up before the return of SPN next Fall. Fingers crossed I can reach that goal! :D

* * *

_Before…_

"Look around, Blondie. _This_," the man said, gesturing between the Winchesters, "is exactly what's going to happen. It's inevitable."

"Nothing's inevitable. We have choices."

"Exactly." The man nodded. "Now what's yours?"

"You're the chaos demon," Chloe said, instead of answering. She couldn't believe she hadn't realized it before. Her world was off balance and the reason behind it was smirking at her from across the room. "You set this whole thing up."

"Maybe I did, but I am _not_ a demon."

"Then what are you?"

The man shook his head. "Make your choice, then we can play the 'who's who' game."

* * *

During his trip to the future, Dean had never questioned the _why_ or _how_ when it came to the partnership Sam and Chloe had formed. Watching them now, he was reminded of the candid photo he'd found tucked away in Bobby's journal. It had comforted him at first. Now, though, all he thought of was the distinct lack of _him_ in the photo.

* * *

"He'll live," Chloe stated, her hand shifting from his armrest to hover over his legs. "_I'll_ live." Her hand landed on his knee. "I promise."

Sending a prayer to a god he'd never really believed in, Bobby grasped her hand and nodded.

* * *

_Now…_

In comparison, Chloe wasn't sure if it was easier to heal the dying or Bobby's paralysis. One killed her—temporarily—leaving others to sit and worry. The other crippled her—temporarily—leaving others to sit and worry—and lecture.

"Never again," Bobby declared, as the time of recovery reached twenty-four hours. Chloe's empathetic paralysis was wearing off. She had managed to almost curl her toes three hours earlier, and more motor functions were following. She still wasn't walking, though, and that fact alone had Bobby worried he'd permanently damaged her.

"Bobby," she started as the hunter sat at the edge of her motel bed, next to her blanket-covered feet.

"Promise me," Bobby interrupted, fixing her with a paternal frown. "Promise me you won't use your powers on me again."

"Bobby," she tried again, not willing to make that promise.

His frown deepened, until it was no longer paternal and simply stubborn—the frown of a hunter. Sam and Dean had the same frown, when staring down a dangerous hunt. "Promise me." It was no longer a request, now simply an order.

With less effort than it had taken even an hour earlier, she bent her leg at the knee and gently kicked out, striking Bobby along his hip. "No," she said, watching his eyes widen at her actions. "I won't."

The blanket over her legs was pulled back, and Bobby examined the previously damaged limbs. "You're better?" he asked warily, resting a rough hand on her knee as she slowly worked the joint.

"Just about," she agreed.

Bobby let out a breath and sank back into the bed, his hand staying settled over her knee. "I'd still feel better if you'd make that promise."

"Sorry." She gave a half-hearted shrug. "I can't."

The older man nodded as he worked his own legs, stretching one out in front of him then the other. "You…" he frowned again, but it was lighter than before, accompanied by a gentle squeeze of her knee. "Thank you."

"Anytime." Chloe pulled her legs in and tucked them under her, relishing in the ability to do so. Situated, she pulled a small collection of papers from the table beside her and handed them to the older hunter. "I did some research while I was worrying everyone," she explained, when he gave her a curious look. "I think it's a case. Can you see what the guys think?"

"And what are you going to do?" Bobby asked, still eyeing her.

"I've been trapped in a bed for a day. I'm going to go shower. If that's allowed."

Bobby nodded slowly, his expression finally twisting into something akin to humor. "I think they allow showers here. I'll be over with the boys." He stood then paused. "Holler if you need anything."

She saluted, swinging her legs off the edge. "Will do."

* * *

Dean whistled as Bobby read over the potential case Chloe had handed him. "The bear followed him inside, up the stairs, and then mauled him in the bedroom?"

"Sounds like," Bobby agreed.

"You know of any bears that are that persistent?" Sam asked wryly.

"No, but I know of a few cryptids that are."

The boys nodded as their motel door opened, announcing Chloe. "Hey," she greeted in a way that instantly had Bobby on edge.

"What's wrong?" he asked, hardly surprised to find his question echoed by the Winchesters.

A flash of amusement showed in her eyes, before she sobered. "I, uh…my tattoo's gone. I think it disappeared after I healed Bobby." Her mouth twisted thoughtfully. "Maybe even after I healed Sam."

"You should get a new one," Dean said immediately, and Bobby shot him a look. He was no mind reader, but he knew the lost tattoo wasn't what Chloe was worried about.

She waved off his statement, confirming Bobby's belief. "I know. I will, but that's not all. What about my angel-repellent?" she asked, pressing a hand to her ribs. "If a tattoo can heal, do you think it's possible my ribs did too?"

"No," Sam answered, with authority, earning curious looks from everyone in the room. "Think about it, Chloe. If your ribs healed after you used your powers, they would have healed back in Colorado after you saved the priest from the gunshot wound. Hell, Lucifer wouldn't have had to resort to dream-walking to get a hold of me, if you weren't still protected."

Chloe nodded, considering.

"We can call Cass. Get him to check," Dean offered, when she didn't look convinced.

Her hand fell away from her ribs and she shook her head. "No. Sam's right. If I wasn't still hidden from angels, we'd know it."

"Unsettling, but true," Dean agreed. "Now, who's ready to go hunt Yogi bear?"

Bobby watched them pack and head out, following behind. It still felt like a miracle to be walking, and it probably was, just not the kind of miracle they taught in Sunday school.

But he was okay with that, because he was starting suspect he'd prefer meteor-powers over divine intervention.

* * *

In most cases, Dean found he preferred the corporeal prey to everything else they hunted—the kind of creatures that used teeth and claws to attack versus telekinesis and other mind tricks. There was a simple enough solution to putting those kinds of creatures down, and it rarely left the experienced hunters in any real danger.

So, to go from the belief that they were dealing with a cryptid to the realization that they were actually dealing with the Trickster was upsetting—and that wasn't even including the fact that it was the _Trickster_. Again.

But the Trickster could still be killed, hopefully.

And only if Dean could get his brother to agree with the plan, instead of spouting irrational ideas.

"Ally with the Trickster?" Dean repeated, trying to understand just what his brother was talking about. It was a crazy plan, probably suicidal. Though, considering Sam had sided with a _demon_ not too recently, Dean shouldn't have been too surprised.

He frowned, swallowing the ugly thought. He and Sam were on equal turf again. Thoughts like that were going to get them nowhere.

Sam nodded and said, "Yeah," like it was the simplest thing in the world.

"A bloody, violent monster, and you wanna be Facebook friends with him? Nice, Sammy."

"Actually," Chloe started, cutting into the conversation to add her own opinion. Dean had a feeling he wasn't going to like it. "Sam's got a point. The Trickster's powerful, and we could use all the help we can get."

"And, if it doesn't work, we'll kill him," Sam concluded, sharing a look with Chloe, who nodded.

Dean looked between the two of them and shook his head. "Gotta love being outnumbered," he muttered then continued on before either could comment. "Fine. How do we find him?"

"Wait for him to snag another victim. I'm sure he'll find someone to play a trick on."

* * *

The area outside the warehouse was empty—no signs of police activity anywhere. That was never a good sign.

Sam walked back to the trunk, taking the stake and flashlight Dean offered and hoping they wouldn't have to use them. It was a weak plan—allying with the Trickster—but it was all they had at the moment.

"So…no cops?" Chloe asked rhetorically as she was handed the same supplies.

Sam glanced between Chloe and his brother, suddenly struck by the fact that there had been no debate that morning about her joining the hunt. It had just happened. Either Dean was getting soft with the _it's too dangerous_ statements, or he was starting to realize how pointless those statements were when directed at Chloe. Sam guessed the latter.

"Watch yourself," he told her, because Dean may have given up the argument, but that didn't make it any less dangerous.

A silent nod and she fell into step behind Dean as the three of them surrounded the warehouse door. With a look, Dean pulled the door open and they rushed inside.

And stopped.

Sam had been in a hospital enough times to recognize one instantly. Beige walls, a sterile smell in the air, and doctors. A lot of doctors.

"Doctor," the pretty blonde greeted as she passed.

"Doctor," the pretty brunette echoed as she followed.

"Doctor?" Sam repeated, looking to his brother.

Chloe reached up and tapped the nametags attached to the white coats neither of them had been wearing a minute before. "Doctor," she agreed, and then tugged at the stethoscope around her neck. "Nurse." Her mouth quirked. "I think."

"Okay…" Sam adjusted his coat.

"I'm just not sure of _where_, though I'm guessing the Trickster is _why_ and _how_," Chloe continued as another brunette walked towards them.

"Doctor," she greeted then slapped him, and Sam was pretty sure he never wanted to play doctor again.

* * *

"Shot through the Heart" — Sam is forced to return to the operating room, only this time with his brother's life in his hands. Meanwhile, Chloe comes to terms with feelings she has been hiding all season on "Dr. Sexy M.D."

* * *

Dr. Piccolo was giving her the dewy-eyed look Chloe used to associate with Lana Lang. It was starting to get on her nerves. And it didn't help that she insisted on _talking_ on top of it. "Don't worry Chloe, he'll make it. Sam won't let his brother die."

"Okay," she answered, because she figured she had to. Really, she just wanted to step out onto the operating floor with Sam and heal Dean's gunshot wound. Only, her powers didn't work in TV land. Of course.

"And once Dean is healed, you two can finally talk."

She knew she was going to regret asking, before she said a word. "Talk? About what?"

Dr. Piccolo just gave her a _look_. They were in a medical drama. There was only one thing that look could mean.

"_Seriously_?" Chloe demanded, because that was all there was to say.

She was going to kill the Trickster herself. And she was going to enjoy it.

_click

* * *

_

TENSIONS RUN HIGH — Chloe and Sam's friendship hits a new challenge in the form of Sam's brother, Dean. Dean returns to school with a new secret and a new interest in the girl he left behind. Sam struggles against an old enemy. And the brothers' relationship is put to the test on "One Tail Light."

* * *

"High school. Fantastic," Dean grumbled, slamming the locker shut. At least the clothes were better, but not much.

None of the television shows came with scripts, but they'd learned quickly (thanks to a very painful Japanese game show) that the moment they embraced their "roles," they knew what to do. Like instinct. The Trickster was apparently fine with improv (such as Sam's performance as a surgeon), but they couldn't step out of their role. Ever.

Cursing tricksters, Dean moved out to the courtyard, not sure what he'd find, but knowing it was his next move. The place was filled with other students—kids who actually looked young enough to be in high school—but he found Sam and Chloe instantly. Like a planned camera blocking, they sat at a table directly in his line of sight.

As he walked closer, Chloe smiled, her attention still on Sam and whatever he was saying. They sat huddled over the table, talking close and smiling often, and Dean felt something twist inside him, but ignored it.

He really needed to get out of TV land. His characters were starting to get to him.

By the time he reached their table, they were aware of his presence and sat back. "Hey Dean," Chloe greeted in a way that sounded painfully scripted. "Have a seat."

He did, attempting casual and knowing that wasn't what his role called for. There was nothing casual about this role. He was supposed to be jealous of them and their friendship.

"You okay?" Sam asked, because that was his line, but Dean caught the question echoed in Chloe's eyes. They weren't acting. They were asking.

"Peachy," he answered, using his character as a cover and stifling his jealousy. He might have to play the role, but that didn't mean he had to embrace it. He wasn't jealous—not of Sam and Chloe's friendship.

He wasn't.

_click

* * *

_

A NEW ENEMY THREATENS ALL SHE HOLDS DEAR — Chloe is confronted by her most dangerous enemy. When she refuses to fight he goes after Sam and Dean, kidnapping them and forcing her into battle. The only way Chloe can save them is to step back into the fight she left behind and take another head on "Mainlander."

* * *

"I've gotta _what_?" Chloe demanded, looking from the sword-wielder in front of her to the brothers tied up across the room. She suddenly wished she was back to playing a high school student. At least those shows didn't have sword fights.

"You've been out of the game too long, Sullivan," her dueling partner declared, his accent heavy yet unrecognizable. Scottish? "Your love for these pathetic _mortals_ has made you weak." A really bad French accent, maybe?

Dean struggled against his bonds. "Who are you calling pathetic?" he demanded.

The swordsman barked a laugh, pointing his sword at Dean. "I'm not the one tied up, am I?" He took a step closer so the end of his sword hovered over Dean's chest. "Now be a good little damsel and stay silent. This is between me and Chloe."

Chloe caught the brothers' eyes, hoping her current character knew how to handle a sword—because _she_ certainly didn't. "Why me?" she asked, going on the assumption that the question would trigger a villainous monologue and buy her more time.

"It's part of who you are." The man stepped away from Dean, but kept his sword in a ready grasp. "You may think immortality is a free ride, but I'm here to remind you of the rules." He paused and smiled slowly. "And the first thing you must learn is: there can only be one."

"I'm not immortal," Chloe argued.

The resulting laughter caused her hair to stand on end. He certainly had the villainous cackle down. "I've heard of immortals denying the necessity of The Game, but to deny their own immortality? That's just pathetic."

Chloe glared at the insult. "It's not denial. It's the truth. I'm not immortal. I'm just—"

"Chloe," Sam hissed from his position tied beside Dean. "Play your role," he reminded once he had her attention.

She sighed, looking from her sword to the immortal in front of her. With every new show, her irritation towards the Trickster grew that much stronger. "Fine. Let's go."

With a triumphant smile, her dueling partner stepped forward and stood ready. Chloe matched his position, gripping her sword uncertainly. She never thought she'd miss the grip of her gun, until then. "Take his head," Sam encouraged.

So she did, because that was her role.

There was a flash of light as the badly-accented swordsman fell, and she dropped her sword next to his body. "I'm _not_ immortal."

_click

* * *

_

Tonight on "Supernatural" — It's the end of the world as they know it, but Dean's got other priorities. How helpful is his definition of 'research', and just how big of a sandwich can he eat? Tune in to find out.

* * *

Sam wasn't sure how, but their current set seemed brighter than any of the others. The wallpaper, the appliances, even the food looked like someone had increased the saturation. It was a sitcom, and the Trickster was making sure it looked authentic.

"Hey, have you done your research yet?" he asked Dean, stepping further into the room. He hadn't spotted Chloe yet. She was probably their neighbor. All sitcoms had some sort of neighbor that stopped by daily.

His brother looked guilty, just as he was supposed to. "Oh yeah. All kinds of research. All night."

"Yeah?" He paused, expecting the next part of the scene to unfold. They'd been through a number of shows already. He'd learned to sense the cues. Even without a script to read, they still knew.

Nothing happened.

Dean blinked, looking around the room. He'd been waiting for the same thing. "Uh, I said, 'All kinds of research. All night.'"

"Yeah?" Sam repeated, a bit louder than before.

There was a thump from behind the bathroom door. "I'm going to kill him," Chloe's voice rang out, prompting another round of laughter.

"Uh, what kind of research?" Sam asked in a weak attempt to keep the scene going.

Dean shrugged, his attention still on the bathroom door. "The book kind…" he said absently and moved towards the bathroom. "Chloe?"

"The kind where you lose clothes," came Chloe's response, and Sam hesitated, wondering just what kind of sitcom they were on.

The bathroom door opened and Chloe emerged, wrapped in a towel and not much else by the looks of it. "I hate sitcoms."

* * *

When Castiel arrived on set, Chloe looked forward to freedom. When the Trickster arrived, her hope died.

The Trickster sent Castiel away with nothing more than a flick of his wrist, and Chloe stiffened as his gaze trailed back to her. He made an exaggerated _tisk, tisk_. "You aren't playing the game very well, Chloe."

"Yeah I know. We get it. We figured out the rules to your stupid game," she said, tightening her grip on the towel. There was nothing but skimpy lingerie underneath. Until that moment, she'd never really realized how sexist sitcoms were.

"Play our roles," Dean added.

"Good, now for part two: play your roles _out there_." The Trickster waved towards the studio audience, but Chloe knew he meant the real world—outside his TV land.

"What roles?"

The Trickster sighed, looking disappointed. "You know. Sam staring as Lucifer. Dean staring as Michael." He gave Chloe half a glance, before continuing. "Your heavy weight showdown."

Chloe almost cut him off, wanting to ask the same question she'd been asking since the angels had stepped into the scene: _what about me?_

Dean spoke first, though, asking a more pressing question. "Heaven or Hell, which side you on?"

The Trickster's eyes darkened, and Chloe realized it was the first time she'd ever seen him even minutely irritated. "I'm not on either side."

"Yeah, right." Dean took a step closer, sizing up the Trickster in a way Chloe knew was useless. When it came to demigods—or any supernatural beings—size rarely mattered. "You're grabbing ankle for Michael or Lucifer. Which one is it?"

The darkness in the demigod's eyes grew. "You listen to me, you arrogant dick. I don't work for either of those S.O.B.'s. Believe me."

"Oh, you're somebody's bitch."

The last ounce of humor vanished from the Trickster's face, and Chloe knew Dean had crossed a line. She jumped as he shoved Dean against the wall, holding him in place with a strength that belayed his size.

"Don't you ever, _ever_ presume to know what I am," he warned, jostling his grip on Dean's shirt front. He turned back to Chloe and Sam, with a staged smile. "Now listen very closely. Here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna suck it up, accept your responsibilities, and play the roles that _destiny_ has chosen for you."

"Destiny's a joke," Chloe spat, before she could stop herself. She meant it, though. Wholeheartedly. After everything she'd seen and lived through, she knew "destiny" was nothing more than a word thrown around to make someone believe they had no choice.

There was always a choice.

The Trickster's attention shifted to her, as his grip on Dean tightened, earning a grunt from the hunter. "You…" He glared. "I'd be careful, if I were you. You aren't a part of this, which means you're expendable."

"Don't you—" Dean's threat was cut short by the Trickster's grip. Sam shifted his stance, placing himself between Chloe and the demigod.

"Relax, boys," the Trickster said, the grin returning along with the playful attitude. "Just play your roles. That's all I want."

"And if we don't?" Sam asked, stepping even more in front of Chloe, until her view was almost completely blocked.

"Then you'll stay here in TV Land. Forever."

_click

* * *

_

GUTTED — A stabbing brings the team out to the woods, where they face an old enemy for a final time – they hope. Meanwhile, Chloe enjoys her new wardrobe.

* * *

"I am wearing _sunglasses_ at night!" Dean snapped, looking more irritated than he had when he'd been tied up like that week's damsel in distress.

Chloe ignored him, smoothing the front of her blouse and appreciating the feel of fabric on her skin. She smiled. "I'm wearing clothes."

_click

* * *

_

It wasn't hard to figure out which actor the Trickster was masquerading as—and which one he _wasn't_. The Trickster was clever, and the lollipop sucking cop was just too easy. All Chloe really cared about was the relief she felt when the Trickster fell and they found themselves back in an empty warehouse. No actors. No television sets. Just real life, complete with a looming apocalypse.

By the time they made it back to the motel, Chloe was ready to enjoy her real life bed, lumps and all. She waved to the brothers as they headed to their room next door then hurried to her bed, flopping down on it and closing her eyes.

The TV was going to stay off that night.

Letting out a breath, she rolled to her back, opened her eyes, and froze. She had a sudden sense of déjà vu, remembering the surrealism she'd felt stepping through the warehouse door into a hospital. Now, though, she had gone from lying on her lumpy motel mattress to lying on the rocky shoulder of a road.

With a curse, she stood and dusted herself off, noting that once again she was in clothes that fell out of her realm of personal style. But, all things considered, she knew she should just be grateful she was fully-clothed. The white jumper she wore covered more skin than anything she'd worn since stepping into TV land.

An engine sounded up the road, and she waved, recognizing the familiar rumble. There was a red light flashing behind the Impala's front grill. Chloe paused, wondering why that looked familiar. As the car pulled to a stop beside her, she leaned against the passenger window, offering Dean a wry smile. "Need a mechanic?" she asked, plucking at her clothes.

"No!"

Chloe frowned, glancing at the dashboard then back at Dean. "Did the car just yell at me?"

Dean gave her his own version of a wry smile. "That's not the car. That's Sam."

"Sam?"

"Yep." Dean's confirmation was echoed by the car, in a voice that sounded remarkably like the tallest Winchester.

"I don't think we killed the Trickster."

"Got that." Again the tandem response.

She slipped into the passenger seat, not thinking about the strangeness of Sam and the Impala being joined. "Any better ideas than another stake to the heart?"

Dean nodded. "I've got one. I think I know what we're dealing with."

"What?"

* * *

"They call me Gabriel."

"Gabriel? The archangel?" Sam repeated.

"Guilty."

Chloe shook her head, wanting to be surprised, but knowing she couldn't be. Of all the creatures she'd encountered, angels were the worst at messing with her and the Winchesters.

And they were supposed to be the good guys.

"Isn't posing as a pagan god a little blasphemous?" she asked, eyeing the angel turned trickster. There were moments she missed the simpler life she used to live in Smallville, when all she had to worry about was alien takeovers and dueling Luthors. Now, she was having a theological discussion with a pseudo-fallen angel.

"It would be, if anyone was paying attention enough to care," Gabriel answered, his face still set in the weary annoyance it had been since they'd called him on his true identity.

"So this is a cry for attention?" Dean mocked. "Daddy's not paying enough attention to you so you ran away?"

Gabriel's eyes grew dark for a moment. "Daddy hasn't been paying attention to anyone for a long time. I left Heaven so I wouldn't have to watch my family kill each other." Emotion showed on his face in a way Chloe didn't think angels were capable of. He looked sad, and that scared her a little. "I love my family, but I couldn't watch them turn on each other. So I left." He pointed to Sam and Dean accusingly. "And now, thanks to you two, it's happening again."

"Then help us stop it," Sam shot back.

Gabriel shook his head. "It can't be stopped."

Chloe threw up her hands, earning the angel's attention as she took a step closer to his Holy Fire prison. "It can't be stopped? That excuse is wearing a little thin. If you don't want to see your family kill each other again then do something. Stop falling back on the destiny-excuse. You and I both know that _destiny_ is just a word angels and demons throw around to keep humans from thinking they have a say."

"You don't get it, do you Blondie? Mock destiny all you want, but we've known since Dad flipped on the lights around here that the world was going to end with your boyfriends there. Michael and Lucifer. Dean and Sam." He turned his attention back to the Winchesters. "The older brother, loyal to an absent father. And the younger brother, rebellious of Daddy's plans. You were born to this, boys."

He gave her an almost sympathetic look as he finished. "It's their destiny. One brother has to kill the other."

Chloe saw the brothers eye each other in silent communication, letting the information sink in. She didn't believe in destiny, but she knew there were still moments of doubt—for her and the Winchesters. Moments when everything seemed against them and no matter how hard they fought they still failed—Dean still went to Hell, Sam still broke the final Seal…

"I won't let that happen," Chloe stated, putting as much strength behind her words as she could and still worrying it wasn't enough.

"You?" Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "You already had your chance to stop all this, and you failed. What makes you think you'll do any better now?"

"What are you talking about?" Chloe asked. "What chance?"

"Why do you think I came to you last year? I was giving you a chance to rebel against this destiny you despise so much. You were supposed to keep the brothers from pulling apart. You failed. They started the Apocalypse." The archangel no longer looked sympathetic, only disappointed. "You want to know what your role is in this whole Apocalypse, well that was it. You had your chance to stop it, and you couldn't."

"No," Dean cut in, his hand landing on her shoulder. "No, don't put that on her. None of that was Chloe's fault. Sam and I screwed up."

_And I didn't stop you._ Chloe looked between Dean and Gabriel, fighting to keep her thoughts from showing in her eyes.

There was no denying the roles Sam and Dean had played in the start of the Apocalypse, but after everything she'd been through with the two of them she knew she should have tried harder. She'd _known_ nothing good could have come from their growing distance, and yet she hadn't fought hard enough to fix them.

That was on her.

"Fine, fine." Gabriel waved off Dean's comment. "Point is: Chloe isn't important. Do you think your friend Bobby has a big role to play? Or Ellen? Or Mr. Sunshine himself, Rufus?" Chloe frowned under the archangel's critical eye. "You're what we in the showbiz like to call guest stars. Give the storyline a bit of excitement for a moment, maybe get the fans really riled up, but in the end you don't further the plot."

He was smirking now, his face pulled into an expression that was completely fitting of the title Trickster. "Weren't you paying attention to your roles in the TV shows? You're just the immortal eye candy." He glanced between her and Dean. "And I'll even tack on 'potential love interest'…if you don't screw that up too."

"You're wrong," she insisted.

"No, I'm not. I just wish I was."

* * *

_"It's their destiny. One brother has to kill the other."_

Gabriel's words were still playing through his mind hours after they'd put the warehouse and archangel behind them. It really was nothing new. The angels had been proclaiming their destiny, since Castiel had pulled him from Hell.

It didn't make it any less disheartening to hear, though.

Dean looked up from the newspaper he was browsing as Sam stood and grabbed his jacket. "I'm going to go see if I can find some late-night dinner. Any preferences?"

"Greasy," Dean suggested, pleased when it earned him an eye roll.

Chloe stood and stretched, reaching for her own jacket. "I'll go with."

Dean watched the two of them pull on their jackets and head for the door, suddenly remembering what it had felt like to play a jealous high school student. There was an ease between his brother and Chloe that he'd been picking up on ever since he'd called Sam back into hunting. At first it had reassured him, knowing they'd stayed close while Sam had been out of the business.

But now—

"Dean?" He blinked, Chloe's voice pulling him from his thoughts. She stood in front of him, with a knowing look in her eyes. Apparently his thoughts were easier to read than he'd hoped.

"Yeah?" he responded, attempting denial with the single word.

Her mouth quirked and she glanced behind her, like she could see Sam despite the door he'd just walked through. She turned back to him and shook her head. "Don't," she said simply. Before he could respond, she leaned over and pressed a kiss to his lips. When she pulled back, there was a smile on her face that had him forgetting everything he'd been worried about.

She took a step towards the door, her attention still on him. "You could come with us, you know." _We're not cutting you out._

"I know," he said, responding to her statement and the not-so-hidden message. "But that would ruin the whole having you two wait on me thing that I've got going," he teased, because he enjoyed the reaction he knew would get.

Sure enough, Chloe shook her head in fond exasperation and turned away, but not before he caught another flicker of a smile. "I'm getting you a tofu burger," she decided then slipped out the door before Dean could protest.

He bit back a smile as he watched her go, letting his worry go with her. There was an ease between his brother and Chloe. At first it had reassured him, but now?

Yeah, he was still pretty reassured.

To Be Continued…


	67. Filling Blanks

_Before…_

Chloe stepped into the room, assessing the situation with a cocked eyebrow. "Am I interrupting something?" she asked carefully.

That got Becky's attention. The girl stepped back and turned to Chloe with a small frown. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"Yeah, that never gets old," Chloe quipped, sharing a look with Dean. "I'm their friend."

"_Friend_?" The word was drawn out, like a concept Becky didn't understand. "You certainly don't look like Bobby."

_

* * *

Now…_

The Impala came to an abrupt stop as they reached their destination and all three of them climbed out, hurrying to the front door of the hotel. Their messenger, Chuck, was pacing in front of the porch, looking just as anxious as his text had sounded.

"We're here," Dean announced, redundantly. "What's the emergency?"

Chuck blinked at the three of them, surprise evident in his face. "Emergency?"

"Your text," Chloe explained. "Remember? Life or death? Emergency."

The prophet shook his head, still looking bewildered. "I never sent you a text."

"Yes, you did," Sam argued. "To my phone."

"We drove all night," Dean added.

"I didn't…" Chuck's insistence dwindled as realization dawned on his face. "Oh no—"

"Sam?"

The group turned at the familiar voice, cringing at the sight of the newcomer. "You made it!" Becky continued, hurrying to stand in front of the tallest Winchester. The eager smile on her face made Chloe shake her head sympathetically. _Poor Sam._

As if sensing her thoughts, Becky turned to Chloe, the eagerness fading into slight annoyance. "You."

"Me."

"Becky, did you steal my phone to call them?" Chuck asked, cutting off the staring contest Becky was attempting to have. Chloe shared a look with Sam, seeing her amusement reflected in the hunter's eyes.

"I just borrowed it. From your pants." Off Chuck's frown, she shrugged. "What? They're going to want to see it."

"See what?" The question was asked by all three, and Becky looked excited for a moment then frowned when her gaze returned to Chloe.

"You can't speak at the same time as them." She gestured to the brothers. "That's _their_ thing."

"Uh, sorry?"

Dean stepped closer to the prophet and fan. "Chuck, what the hell's going on?"

The prophet sighed. "Come in. I'll show you." He got partway up the front steps before continuing. "Ever heard of a fan convention?"

"A what?" Dean asked.

"Oh no…" Chloe mumbled.

* * *

A convention. About the _Supernatural_ books. The books Chuck had written about _their_ life. People were at a convention, because they thought life as a Winchester was exciting.

Sam would have laughed if he hadn't been so shocked. Some people had a sad definition of what was "exciting."

"Look guys, you're famous," Chloe mumbled wryly, her attention focused on the kid with yellow contacts, making him look like Azazel. She frowned and turned to them. "Sorry."

Sam shook his head. Wordless.

"This is…" Dean trailed off, shaking his head in a sad echo of his brother.

A man Sam could only assume was dressed as Ash walked up to them, smiling at Chloe. "Jo, right? Nice."

"Jo?" Chloe repeated. "Jo Harvelle?"

_Ash_ nodded. "Yeah, who else would you be?"

"Chloe Sullivan?" she tried, and Sam wondered why she even bothered. Her lack of role in the _Supernatural_ series was suddenly a lot more appealing. At least she didn't have a convention based on her life.

"Never heard of her." _Ash_ looked skeptical. "You know you're supposed to dress up as characters from the series. You can't just make up whoever you want. It's not like Sam and Dean would let just anyone into their lives." He nodded up at the brothers. "Am I right?"

Neither of the brothers responded, and _Ash_ got the hint. "Geez, sorry. Enjoy your Mary Sue."

Chloe looked thoughtful as _Ash_ walked off. "I think I was just insulted."

* * *

Chuck scanned the audience before him and frowned. He never should have let Becky convince him to come to the convention. And then to give a speech on top of that? He was a hermit writer, not a public speaker.

"So…I guess…questions?"

Hands shot up and he sighed. This was going to take a while.

_**

* * *

"So, I noticed that the last few monsters the brothers hunted were mostly demons. What's with all the demons? Couldn't you think of something scarier?"**_

_**"Uh…"**_

_

* * *

Earlier…_

Clark stepped into Tess Mercer's _Daily Planet_ office, eyeing the woman warily. "What do you want, Tess?"

"Such civility, Clark. I'm touched." She circled her desk, so she was standing in front of him. "We need to talk."

"About?"

"Doomsday."

Clark glared, remembering the role Tess had played in the Davis and Doomsday drama. As far as he was concerned, she shared responsibility for Davis's evil turn. "Doomsday is gone, Tess. The _Planet_ published a piece on the event, remember?"

"No." Tess shook her head urgently, looking frightened in a way he'd never seen. Of course, he knew better than to trust Luthors or their predecessors—

"He hasn't been destroyed."

—especially when they were spouting facts he knew were impossible. "I buried him," he argued. "He's gone."

"No. Doomsday is still alive."

Clark shook his head and turned back to the door. "I've got work to get back to."

"Clark, you have to trust me. Burying Doomsday didn't kill him. He's a Kryptonian monster. Do you really think sticking him under a few tons of dirt is going to end him?"

There was something in Tess's tone that stopped Clark's departure. She was hiding something. Granted, she was always hiding something, but her tone suggested a secret she wasn't keen on keeping. He turned back to her, but didn't move closer. "What aren't you telling me, Tess? Why do you think Doomsday is still alive, when all signs point to a different conclusion?"

Her face was neutral as she spoke. "Call it a hunch."

_

* * *

Now…_

When he'd found out that there was an entire hotel full of geeks LARPing as him and Sam—for fun—Dean had sought out a drink, because being a fan of the books was one thing, but to want to _live it_? That was just disturbing.

When he'd heard one of the geeks complain about a "real live dead ghost," he'd rolled his eyes, because it figured that even a _game_ based on their lives would be messed up.

He'd _really_ wanted to brush off the geek's comment and just leave the hotel to its convention, but he'd never been very good at walking away from a case—even if it meant being stuck in a hotel full of wannabe Winchesters. Instead, he'd wasted one hundred dollars bribing the _real_ hotel manager for the story behind the Leticia Gore legend.

Turned out the story was true. Of course. Geeks' need for authenticity was going to get them killed one day. Dean shook his head in annoyance as he stomped up the stairs to the attic, his fist clenching involuntarily.

Chloe had already insisted that causing physical harm to the LARPers wasn't a good idea, but if there wasn't a real ghost for him to let his irritation out on, no one was going to be able to hold him responsible for his actions.

"EMF's going nuts," Sam confirmed as if reading his thoughts. According to the hotel manager, Leticia Gore had killed four boys in the attic. The EMF had just confirmed that her actions had resulted in a "real live dead ghost."

"Great. We've got a real ghost, and a bunch of dudes pretending to be us, poking at it."

Sam sighed. "No way this ends well."

_**

* * *

"Yeah, my question is about the weapons in the trunk. Where do they get all of them? And do they ever add to their collection or even replace weapons?"**_

_**"Sure, the weapons. Well…"**_

_

* * *

Earlier…_

Chloe held out the flash grenade. Dean made to grab it, but she pulled back from his reach. "I've only got one of these, so use it wisely, okay?"

Dean's smile was purely innocent and completely fake. "I promise."

"I'm sure you do."

Behind them, Sam rolled his eyes. "Wrap is up, guys. We've got a shadow demon to hunt."

"And I've gotta see some heroes about a mission," Chloe added, handing over the grenade. She closed up her SUV's arsenal storage and moved to the driver's door, looking back before she climbed in. "So, call me if you need anything." Hesitation showed in her eyes, if not in her tone. "Not that you'll need my help…."

Knowing looks formed on the brothers' faces. "We'll keep you updated," Sam bargained, gesturing with his cell phone.

"Okay." She nodded. "Good."

Dean flashed her a smile as he held up the grenade. "Thanks for the present."

_

* * *

Now…_

"It's gotta be around here someplace."

"Yeah, I don't know man. No one else is looking for the attic."

"Alright, look dude, one: stay in character. If it's just me, I look stupid."

Chloe shook her head as she stood around the corner from the pseudo-Sam and Dean. Listening to them pretend to talk like the Winchesters was starting to give her a headache—mostly due to the repressed laughter.

"And two," _Dean_ continued. "You heard the guy downstairs. I think this is part of the game."

Goosebumps rose on her arms, and she flinched as something flickered to life in front of her. The spirit wasn't looking at her, though. His attention was in the direction of the LARPers.

"Help us!"

Chloe gripped the fire poker she'd grabbed from downstairs and stepped forward. The ghost was only a few feet in front of her so she stepped and swung, slicing the iron weapon through it. Going off the lore, Leticia's spirit was the one they had to worry about, but Chloe didn't want to take any chances, especially not with two civilians in the mix.

"What…_what_ was that?" _Sam_ asked as she turned to them, still gripping her weapon.

She looked from the fire poker to the men and shrugged. "Special effects."

The men looked absolutely giddy. "Awesome!"

"Yeah, awesome. Listen, why don't you relocate your game-playing downstairs with everyone else? No one's supposed to be up here."

_Dean_ frowned. "If we're not supposed to be up here, then why was the ghost up here?"

_Uh_. Before she could come up with a good bluff, the spirit returned, and she was shoved back into the wall with a grunt. Her weapon slid across the hall, stopping in front of the LARPers.

"Help us," the spirit pleaded, turning to the men. "Miss Gore won't let us have any fun."

"That's so cool!"

"Dude, stay in character," _Dean_ snapped, smacking his partner and turning back to the spirit.

Chloe pushed herself from the wall slowly, trying to keep the spirit's attention off of her.

"Where's the body buried, kid? We'll light her up nice and toasty."

It was official: listening to _Dean_ talk was more painful than getting shoved into the wall. Next time, one of the Winchesters could babysit the civilians while she checked out the haunted attic.

_**

* * *

"The brothers have had all these people in their lives. How come they never stay in touch with anyone? Besides Bobby, it's like everyone else just gets forgotten. Why?"**_

_**"There's a good reason for that…I think…"**_

_

* * *

Earlier…_

"You think it's true?" Chloe asked, after Clark finished updating her on Tess's Doomsday theory.

The hero sat beside her on the Watchtower's only couch. The large room was a mess of screens and electronics, with little space for relaxation. Oliver needed to work on that. "No. I don't," he said. "But I checked anyway, and Doomsday is still in his grave."

"Why did she think he was alive?"

Clark shrugged. "I'm not sure yet. I think it has something to do with the Veritas information she found. She told me I was destined to destroy Doomsday then go on to save mankind, but I got the impression there was more to the prophecy she was spouting."

"She's a Luthor heir," Chloe said. "Of course she wasn't giving you the whole picture."

"I'm going to figure out what she's hiding," he stated, determination in his tone. "Doomsday is dead, but there has to be a reason she believes otherwise."

"It's business as usual, then?" Chloe asked lightly. "Trying to figure out what tricks are up the Luthors' sleeves, while saving the city from meta and non-meta villains?"

"And the supernatural ones," Clark added, giving her a _look_.

She tensed, feeling a worry twist in her that had become near-permanent since she'd learned about the things in the dark. "You've run into supernatural problems?" No matter how many times her life had been threatened by a supernatural creature, the thing that scared her the most was the thought of someone else being hurt, especially a someone who wasn't in the fight. Clark and the rest of the super powered team weren't supposed to be involved in the supernatural battle. That was for her and the other hunters to handle.

As superheroes, her team wasn't helpless. Far from it, in fact. But the supernatural didn't follow the rules of the meteor and meta. She wasn't sure how her team would fair against the things in the dark—and she wasn't sure she wanted to find out.

Sensing her worry, Clark shook his head. "No. It's all been meta-related missions lately." The knowing look he was watching her with deepened, as he continued. "That doesn't mean Oliver and I haven't been keeping an eye out."

"Why?"

"One of our teammates is fighting the nightmares in the dark. It's our job to help."

It wasn't exactly the answer she'd expected, and she was pleased despite herself—even if his words did little to settle the worry. "It's not your job to get yourself killed going after things you don't completely understand," she argued then softened, recognizing the near-hypocritical words for what they were. "Just, be careful."

There was no stopping the team's investigation into the supernatural world. It had been inevitable, probably from the moment she'd stumbled into the Winchesters' lives. The only chance she'd ever had of keeping the two worlds separate was to cut herself off from one permanently.

She'd never been very good at saying goodbye.

"There's more to this than just the demons, ghosts, and vampires, isn't there?" Clark asked, and she got the impression he'd wanted to ask her that for a while. "Something big?"

Chloe hesitated, but it seemed to be enough of an answer for Clark.

"Have you told Lois any of this?" he asked.

For a second time in their short conversation, her friend managed to surprise her with his reaction. He wasn't pressing, and she was grateful. "Lois is even less qualified than you at handling the supernatural," she said by way of answering.

"You should tell her something. I can only cover for you for so long." It was said lightly, but the sincerity wasn't lost on Chloe.

"You've been covering for me?"

Clark shrugged. "It's about time I returned the favor."

_

* * *

Now…_

Considering they'd had two wannabe Winchesters with them, salting and burning Leticia Gore's bones had been surprisingly easy. The LARPers were probably scarred for life, and Sam was still a little sore from being tossed across the graveyard, but relatively speaking it could have been much worse.

The role-players had bolted for the hotel, once the ghost had been burned. Now, they sat at the bar with a familiar look of shock on their faces. It was the same look Sam had seen on other civilians who had come face-to-face with the supernatural. Denial would likely follow, but for the moment they were stuck in undeniable shock.

Sam almost felt bad for them.

With a silent look, he and Dean moved to join them as Chloe headed towards Chuck. The prophet had waved her over as soon as they'd returned from burning Leticia's corpse. Sam wasn't sure what Chuck had to tell Chloe, but he had a feeling it had to do with publishing more books. He and Dean had already made their feelings known on the subject, but something told him Chuck wouldn't give up that easily. As he'd said, writing was his only real job.

Not that that was Sam's problem.

"Rounds on us, guys," Dean said, causing the LARPing duo to jump at his voice. He pulled out some bills and set them on the bar.

"See ya around," Sam said, offering them a sympathetic nod. There was really nothing more they could do for them. They had an Apocalypse to get back to, and the two LARPers would be okay. Probably. If they needed any help they could just read another _Supernatural_ book.

"Hey," _Dean_ cut in, turning to them before they could walk away. "How did you know how to do all that stuff, anyway?"

Sam shared a look with his brother. The truth wouldn't work. It rarely worked. Instead, he shrugged. "We read the books," he admitted, going for sheepish and not caring if his lie held up.

"Yeah, okay." _Dean_ turned back to the bar, and the Winchester moved to the exit.

Chloe joined them with a bemused look on her face.

"What did Chuck want?" Sam asked.

She glanced back at the prophet, shaking her head wryly. Sam followed her gaze and saw that Chuck's attention was focused intensely on the drink in his hand. He didn't look pleased. "To know if he had my permission to use me in his books."

"And you said no," Dean guessed, noticing the prophet's posture too.

"I warned him that fans wouldn't like a Mary Sue," she corrected, with an amused smirk. "I think he got the hint." She nodded towards the LARPers still stationed at the bar. "Think they'll be okay?"

Dean shook his head. "Probably not, but considering what else is out there I'd say ghosts are pretty tame."

"Agreed." Sam reached for the door handle and pushed, only to be met with resistance. "Huh." He pushed again, his brother joining him at the other door. Neither budged. "That's not good."

"We're stuck?" Chloe guessed, worry settling on her face.

"Maybe," Sam said, not committing to anything until he'd tried all the doors and windows. Though, he had a sneaking suspicion…

"Probably," Chloe corrected, reading his thoughts.

"Tame," Dean repeated, giving the handle one last jerk. "But still a pain in the ass."

Sam didn't disagree.

_**

* * *

"And to add to my question, why can't they have more of a love life? And I don't mean the one that just happens in the dark."**_

_**"…I think you're missing the point of the series…"**_

_

* * *

Earlier…_

"Okay…" Lois frowned as if trying to process everything her cousin had just told her. "Why? Life isn't crazy enough in Smallville?"

Chloe shook her head, as the sounds of customers getting their late-night order of coffee echoed through the floor. "I'm not doing it for the crazy. I'm doing it because it feels right. It gives me a purpose. I'm more than just the overly curious ex-journalist. I'm saving lives." _While working as Watchtower._ But that was one secret she was going to continue to keep from Lois. It wasn't her secret to tell and comparatively that job didn't hold the same level of importance as being a hunter. Oliver and Clark and their team of heroes were the ones saving lives in the superhero world. She was just the coordinator.

Lois softened with understanding. "You know, with Lex gone you could probably get your job at the _Planet_ back."

Okay, maybe she didn't understand.

"No, Lois. That's not it. You're a reporter. You're helping the Blur, stopping the corrupt, and saving the city." Chloe swallowed a pang of nostalgia, remembering a time when that had been her dream career. "I'm doing the same thing, only my Blur is a pair of brothers who don't realize they're saving the world just as much as our faceless superhero."

The understanding was still in her cousin's eyes, but Chloe sensed a change in reason.

"Which one?" Lois asked, grinning suddenly.

"Which one, what?"

"Did you fall for?" Off Chloe's silence, Lois shook her head. "Come on, Chloe. I know that look. It's about ten times more obvious than the one you used to shoot at Clark, and a hundred times more than anything you ever directed at Jimmy. You've fallen."

That wasn't the reaction she was expecting, but Lois was good at surprising her. "Only _you_ would ask that kind of question after I tell you I professionally kill ghosts."

Lois waved a hand dismissively. "So you're the newest Ghostbuster, big deal? After the crazy of Smallville, I can accept that. Now, answer the question. Is it Sam? Did you two have a RomCom moment while living together? Was it as cheesy as I think it was?"

"No! No, Lois. Nothing happened." She sighed, fighting the bemused smile that threatened to crack her. "And it's not Sam."

Lois nodded. "I know."

"How do you know?"

For the first time that night, Lois looked serious. "Because, I saw the look in your eyes three months ago, when you told me it was just going to be you and Sam."

"Lois…" Her cousin was always the person she could turn to for advice, especially of the relationship variety. Admittedly, Lois's track record with guys wasn't ideal, but she still offered the help Chloe needed when facing her own male-shaped problems.

Apocalypse-shaped problems came before male-shaped ones, though, so Chloe swallowed her question. "That's not why I came to see you. I just wanted to let you know this job isn't going to be as temporary as it has been. I won't be home for a while, and I don't want you to worry."

Lois laughed at her words and the rough change of topic. "This stopped being temporary a while ago, Chloe. Just, don't drop me completely from your contact list, okay. I want to know Casper hasn't gotten my little cousin."

"Promise."

"Oh, and invite me to the wedding."

"Funny."

_

* * *

Now…_

Of all the things she'd learned since stepping into the hunting world, grave digging was one of the easiest to follow. There wasn't much to the act, just dig up the coffin, expose the body, then salt and burn. On paper, it sounded easy. In reality, it was hard. Especially without backup in the form of a strapping Winchester.

By the time she and the two LARPers managed to dig up the bodies of the three boys, she was in complete agreement with their complaints about the Winchesters making it look easy.

"And it smells," _Sam_ complained as the three bodies burned in front of them. "They never mention that in the books."

Chloe snorted, reaching for her cell phone. "It's worse when they're fresher." The comment earned her the startled look she'd expected, and she dialed Dean's number with a satisfied smirk. Dean answered on the second ring, grunting out a simple "all clear" before hanging up.

"Did it work?" _Dean_ asked as she slipped her phone back in her pocket.

"Yep. No more ghosts." She gave them an exhausted smile. "You're heroes."

Despite their fatigue, the two men stood a little straighter, matching her smile.

_**

* * *

"So, you mentioned new books. Any spoilers?"**_

_**"It's the end of the world."**_

_

* * *

Earlier…_

"Is this my busy college grad?" Gabe chuckled into the phone. "It's good to hear your voice, Honey."

Chloe nodded into the phone, even though he couldn't see her. "You too, Dad." She swallowed, and pressed forward. The Winchesters were due back to the Talon soon and she had to be ready to go when they got there. "How's Canada treating you?"

"Coldly." Gabe laughed at his own joke. "But I think your old man is in line to get a promotion. My manager is looking into retirement and I'm his first pick for replacement."

Chloe smiled. "That's great Dad. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks Sweetheart, but something tells me you didn't call just to hear your dad talk about work. What's up?"

It wasn't until she had him on the phone that she let herself remember how much she missed him. The distance had grown easier over the years, but it was still hard sometimes. "Nothing really, I just thought I'd check up on you." It was said in jest, knowing the fond eye roll it would earn her.

"I'm not ready for the Home yet, I can tell you that much."

"What a relief."

Gabe chuckled. "How goes life in your part of the continent? Where are you now?"

"Back in Smallville, actually. It's a bit of a pit stop to visit Lois and Clark. We were in the neighborhood."

"Between jobs?" The question was asked knowingly, and she smiled. Despite the distance, her dad had been the first to learn about her encounter with the supernatural. If anything, the distance seemed to have made the conversation easier. Lois was the one she went to for relationship advice, but her dad was still the one she went to for the hard stuff—even if those conversations tended to be infrequent and usually via email.

"At the moment. Sam and Dean went to work a hunt while I stayed behind to visit."

"Let the men do all the work," Gabe teased.

"Something like that." As she spoke, the Impala pulled onto the street below her window. "I miss you, Dad."

"Miss you too, Chloe. Who knows, maybe with this promotion I can skip out on work and see you for Christmas? That is, if you'll be stationary long enough for me to see you." Gabe chuckled good-naturedly.

The holiday season was still over a month away. There was no predicting what her life would be like at that point, though she doubted it would be stationary—at least not in the good sense. And that was the main reason she'd even thought to call her dad. It was the Apocalypse. Life was dangerous.

She wasn't sure if she'd ever get a chance to speak to her dad again.

"That'd be awesome," she admitted, not having to fake any sincerity. Dean and Sam climbed out of the Impala, and she waved as their gazes travelled up to her. "The guys are back. I should be going."

"Busy girl," Gabe acknowledged. "Alright, go save the world from evil. Make me proud." His tone suggested he already was.

"I will." She closed her eyes. "Love you, Dad."

"Love you too, Pumpkin."

When she closed the phone, there were tears in her eyes and she blinked them away. The Winchesters were waiting. They had an Apocalypse to stop.

_**

* * *

"How about the brothers? How will Dean going to Hell change their relationship? Will they ever get back to what they were?"**_

_**"I sincerely hope so…"**_

To Be Continued…


	68. Bellum, Amor

**ThreeMoons**: To answer your question: Yes, Chloe and Jo have met before. At least we can assume they've met before, during the chapter "Split Front." They didn't interact on screen, but they were in the same area, dealing with the same people so I guess I'd just assume they met. :D

_

* * *

Before…_

Chuck studied Chloe a moment. "He was wrong, you know," he said, referring to Zachariah.

"About what?" she asked, a list of possibilities forming.

"About you," Chuck explained. "You were in my last vision. You are a part of this now."

* * *

"And the name of the star was Wormwood, and many men died," Chloe quoted, looking startled.

Ellen stared at her. "You've memorized the Scripture?"

"Research," she explained. "And only Revelation."

"Revelation 8:10," the priest added. "Are you saying this is about the Apocalypse?"

"Unfortunately," Chloe agreed. Ellen watched her, surprised by how matter-of-factly she seemed to be taking everything. Most hunters she knew were more freaked by the end times they were in, and they had been in the profession much longer than the young blonde.

Ellen mentally shook her head. Chloe may seem more experienced, but she didn't look any older than Jo. _What have the Winchesters gotten you into?_

* * *

"Meg," Dean called, guessing the demon by tone alone. When she turned back to him, he glared. "I'm going to kill you. Before you can ever touch her, I'll stop you."

Meg laughed, her eyes flashing black again. "Now that'd be a neat trick." With that, she was gone, leaving Dean to face the Devil— and his brother.

Determination settling over him as he continued on. This wasn't his future. He wouldn't let it happen.

_

* * *

Now…_

_[2__DAYS__ : 3__HOURS__ : 37__MINUTES__]_

Whether out of stubbornness or distrust, John Winchester had almost always been a solo hunter, turning down outside help unless he thought he absolutely needed it. And once his sons had grown old enough to be useful on a hunt, the likelihood of outside help had decreased significantly.

Even before her Bill had been killed, Ellen had disliked that frame of thought. Hunting was a dangerous profession. If they couldn't rely on fellow hunters for help, they probably wouldn't last long.

Luckily, for all their similarities to their daddy, the Winchester boys had learned the benefits of outside help—and not just in the form of a rookie blonde.

It was the end of the world. The Winchesters were going to need all the help they could get.

"Crowley's gonna have guards to go with that nice surveillance equipment," Dean commented, pulling Ellen's focus back to the conversation. "We can draw them out, then sneak onto the property and cut the power."

Across from him, Jo nodded in agreement, leaning forward on the picnic table. "How do we draw them out?"

When Ellen and Jo had received the call from Dean about their plan to kill the Devil, they had been almost a day's drive away. They'd made it with time to spare, meeting the trio at an old rest stop to discuss the plan of attack. The location wasn't exactly off-the-beaten-path, but it was close. Ellen just cared about the fact that it seemed to be demon-free.

Dean eyed Jo carefully. "Distraction."

Her daughter frowned in confusion, but Ellen got the hidden meaning, feeling worry well up. "You mean bait?" she pressed. She trusted the Winchesters, more than she'd trusted their father—and that said a lot—but Jo was still her daughter.

"I volunteered," Chloe said, meeting Ellen's concerned gaze across the table. "Jo's better at hand-to-hand, though."

"Not that she'll even need it," Sam assured. "I'll be right there with the demon knife. The demons will be dead before they can touch her."

Jo sat up, looking around the group. Ellen saw the moment her daughter made her decision. "Alright. What do I have to do?"

The question was aimed at Dean, but it was Chloe who spoke, gesturing to the rough sketch of Crowley's home that sat before her. "There's an intercom at the front gate. Jo can draw the guards out there, and Sam and Dean will stay hidden along the perimeter until they're close enough to attack." As she spoke, she kept her attention divided between Ellen and the sketch on the table. There was reassurance in the girl's eyes, and Ellen almost smiled at her.

Chloe was younger than Jo and had the least experience as a hunter out of all of them, yet she had a presence about her that contradicted both of those facts. This wasn't her first time planning a mission—that much was clear.

_

* * *

[1__DAY__ : 7__HOURS__ : 19__MINUTES__]_

With the Colt secure in the Impala's trunk, the long drive back to Bobby's had come with a small sense of hope. The Colt belonged to the hunters again. With it, they could kill the devil. They could stop the end of the world.

Hope or not, though, by the time their two car caravan reached Bobby's property, Ellen was grateful for the relief. With a deadline looming, there had been little time to rest between Crowley's West Coast mansion and Bobby's Midwest home.

She pulled her car to a stop behind the Impala and gently nudged Jo awake. "We're here."

Jo stretched, blinking awake and turning her gaze to the car and house in front of them. A thoughtful look crossed her features, and Ellen followed her gaze in time to see the Impala's passengers climbing from car.

Dean stood at the back door, resting his forearms against the top of the door frame as he leaned in, talking to whoever was in the back. Considering Sam was already out and heading for Bobby's house, Ellen knew it was Chloe who held Dean's attention. He was talking and shaking his head, but the expression on his face spoke of pleasure not annoyance.

Ellen didn't realize she was staring, until Jo twisted to grab her bag from the back. "He looks happy," her daughter said absently, her focus still on the backseat.

Ellen agreed, realizing that was what had caught her attention. The last time she had seen Dean, there had been nothing but weariness and worry for the future in his eyes. Hell, even that year after his dad had died his expression had hardly gone beyond world-weary. Earning a smile from Dean Winchester—a real, honest smile—was rare. And something Ellen couldn't help hoping she saw more of.

She pulled her attention away just in time to see Dean reach in and pull Chloe from the backseat. He held her close for a beat, before releasing her and watching her walk up to Bobby's front door.

Jo was right. He looked happy. And she was thankful.

"Think Bobby has any beer?" Jo asked, effectively cutting into her thoughts.

Ellen met her daughter's knowing gaze with a small nod. "He does, if he knows what's good for him."

_

* * *

[0__DAYS__ : 4__HOURS__ : 14__MINUTES__]_

Carthage, Missouri wasn't a bustling town normally, but for it to be completely empty on a Thursday evening was unusual. Bobby scanned the buildings around them as Ellen drove down the main drag. It looked deserted—and deserted was never good.

Jo tapped her window. "I'd say Crowley was right."

"Something is going on," Castiel agreed from his seat beside her.

Angel in the back seat. That would never not be strange to Bobby. "Can you sense Lucifer?" he asked.

"No." The angel paused, and Bobby could just imagine the serious gaze on his face. "But that does not mean he isn't here."

The car fell into silence as Ellen drove forward to meet the Impala. "Place seem a little empty to you?" she asked through the open window.

Dean didn't comment, nodding them forward. "We're gonna go check out the PD. You guys stay here. See if you can find anybody."

Off Ellen's nod, the Impala continued forward, taking her trio of passengers with her. Ellen pulled her car to a stop along the street and they climbed out, preparing themselves to do some people searching. Or Devil searching.

Bobby barely jumped as Castiel appeared before him, choosing to teleport (or whatever it was he did) instead of use the open door. "You sense anything, yet?" he asked again.

Castiel was frowning, his gaze wandering around the empty street like he could see something his human partners couldn't. Bobby had no doubt he _could_. "Not Lucifer," Castiel said. "But this town isn't empty."

Bobby followed the angel's gaze, trying to spot a hint of what he could see. Somehow he doubted the angel was looking at the missing citizens. "Who's here?"

Still Castiel kept his attention on the scene before him. "Reapers."

"Reapers?" Ellen repeated. "As in more than one?"

"They only gather like this at times of great catastrophe. Chicago Fire, San Francisco Quake, Pompeii—"

"It's Death," Bobby cut in, running a distressed hand across his face.

Castiel looked thoughtful at his words, but Jo and Ellen just looked confused. "What do you mean, Bobby?" Jo asked.

"I mean Death, the Horseman." Bobby glanced behind him in the direction the Impala had driven, suddenly wishing the three of them were back at their side. Facing the Devil was dangerous enough. Facing the Devil as he attempted to raise Death was…well, deadly. "I think the Devil is here to unleash Death."

If there had been any benefit from his time stuck in a wheelchair, it was the amount of research he'd been able to do. With nothing else left to occupy his time, he'd turned his library into a collection of everything he could find on the Apocalypse. After the encounter with War, he'd split his focus between lore on stopping the Devil and all the information he could find on the three remaining Horsemen. They had to stop the Devil, but they also had to know how to spot his three Apocalypse lackeys before they pulled another stunt like War had in Colorado.

Of course, he wasn't the only one who had spent the last few months engrossed in research. And that was another reason he wanted the Winchesters back at his side. He wanted to run his theory past Chloe.

Castiel took a step away from their small group, his attention returned to the reapers only he could see. Bobby reached out and grabbed his arm. "Where do you think you're going?"

The angel looked undisturbed by Bobby's tone, simply turning to face him with a small frown. "To learn more about the reapers' presence."

"No. You just stay here. We don't need our angel ally wandering off and leaving us mere-mortals stranded."

Castiel looked down at Bobby's hand still holding his arm then back at the hunter's face. "Bobby…" he started.

Bobby shook his head, but dropped his grip. "Please, Cass." He was pleading with an angel. He almost missed the days when he hadn't believed such a creature existed. "Just wait."

Castiel looked behind him then at the trio before him. "Very well."

_

* * *

[1__DAY__ : 5__HOURS__ : 41__MINUTES__]_

"It's good to see you up and around, Bobby," Ellen said as she pulled beer from his fridge.

Bobby nodded in agreement, taking the offered drink. "It's good to _be_ up and around. I don't feel quite as useless."

Ellen shook her head with an expression he remembered seeing on Dean's face more than once. "You could never be useless."

He grunted, but didn't argue. He'd already had that conversation with Dean, and then again with Chloe. He was sure the only reason he'd managed to get out of the conversation with Sam was the fact that Chloe had healed him.

He wasn't useless as a cripple. He got it. Didn't mean he wasn't more useful with all his motor skills intact.

Ellen took his silence for the change in subject it was and nodded towards his living room. Dean and Sam sat on either side of his desk, discussing plans for the following day. "Those two seem better than they were. With each other, I mean."

Bobby knew what she meant. The last time she'd seen the brothers they'd both been on edge and the reunion had ended with Sam pulling himself out of hunting. "They are," he agreed. "They're brothers, so they still fight and argue like no other, but they're better. At least I don't have to worry about one going off on his own anymore."

"That's a relief. The last thing we need is one of the Winchesters pulling out of hunting again. Those two are some of the best this profession has." Ellen watched the brothers as she spoke, studying them in a way that was part hunter and part mother. "Chloe wouldn't have anything to do with this return to brotherhood, would she?"

Before Bobby could answer, the girl in question joined the brothers at the desk, leaning against the table top so she stood between the two of them. She was talking, her face serious and her gestures heavy with information. It was a stature Bobby recognized from the hours they'd shared investigating the supernatural. The distance and their hushed tones kept him from hearing her, but he understood anyway.

Finally, she paused and crossed her arms, looking between the brothers with a wry smile. When she spoke again, the smile remained, and it wasn't long before it earned her matching smiles from the brothers.

"Yeah," Bobby mumbled, turning to Ellen to leave the trio to their private joke. "I'd say she had some influence."

_

* * *

[0__DAYS__ : 0__HOURS__ : 59__MINUTES__]_

Aside from the reapers that only Castiel could see, Carthage was deserted. Jo had been to a ghost town before, but there was something even more unsettling about an average town suddenly vacant. She ignored her unsettled thoughts and focused on the task before her.

For a small town, Carthage had plenty of history, and it was all packed into one small building off the main street. The sign outside labeled the building as Town Hall, but the wall of fliers and information on local attractions made it look more like a visitors' center.

Jo tossed another flier aside, looking for something useful. The Devil was in town to raise the Angel of Death. According to one translation of the necessary ritual, the Horseman had to be brought up at midnight from a location of massive death. Their first thought had been a cemetery. Carthage was an old town, and there were no doubt a number of populated cemeteries.

Jo had a different idea, but first she had to find proof.

Another flier was set aside, revealing the information she'd been searching for. Triumphantly, she scooped up the paper and turned to the group. "What about a battlefield?" she asked as she held the flier in front of her.

Chloe stepped forward, taking the paper from her hand. "The Civil War?" She kept reading, and Jo saw the moment she came across the same information that had caught her attention. "The Battle of Hellhole."

"It fits, right?" she pressed, knowing her theory had legitimacy. "There are dead in a cemetery, but this is where men _died_."

"Works for me," Chloe agreed, handing Bobby the flier when he reached for it. She nodded towards Jo. "Nice catch."

Jo nodded back, watching Bobby come to the same conclusion. "Says the battle took place on William Jasper's farm." He flipped the flier around for the group to see. "And they gave us a map."

"Convenient," Sam commented.

His brother gestured to the front door. "Let's go."

Jo followed the group, gripping her shotgun carefully. So far there hadn't been any problems, but that didn't mean they weren't waiting for them. If anything, the town had been too quiet, and she knew everyone else was just as on edge, waiting for a trap to spring.

They made it to the edge of town before they met trouble. And by then, Jo doubted anyone was surprised.

"There you are."

The unfamiliar voice came from behind them, forcing the group to turn as one, guns raised and aimed without much thought. A small brunette smiled at them in a way that could only be labeled as unsettling. If she wasn't evil, Jo didn't know what was.

"Meg," Sam said, naming their threat.

_Demon_, Jo guessed.

Dean's aim didn't waver as he took a step forward, the Colt aimed at the demon's heart. Jo was used to the look on hunters' faces as they stared down a threat, but there was something more to the glare Dean was directing towards Meg. He was furious. He and the demon had history.

"Shouldn't have come here, boys," Meg commented, sounding pleased with herself. Jo bristled. If Dean didn't shoot the demon, she might.

"I could say the same thing for you," Dean returned, pulling back the hammer on the Colt.

"Big words, Deano," Meg taunted. "Don't tell me that pathetic excuse of an angel is giving you false hopes of victory."

Before Jo could shoot a glance at Castiel, the sound of hounds growling erupted in front of them. The disembodied growls sent shivers down her spine, and she adjusted her aim to the air next to Meg. She wasn't as experienced as her mother would like, but she knew her demon lore. The demon had hellhounds with her. Invisible, demonic pit bulls that could rip her to shreds without much thought.

"Backup?" Dean asked casually.

"Insurance," Meg corrected. "In case you two don't come quietly."

"To see Lucifer?" Sam guessed. "I think we'll pass." He glanced at his brother, an entire conversation passing between them in the space of a heartbeat. Jo tensed for action, recognizing the moment a plan formed in Dean's eyes. She didn't know details, but she knew she had to be ready.

The demon shrugged. "Your call."

Dean's glare deepened, his aim steady. "I know," he said then fired.

_

* * *

[1__DAY__ : 3__HOURS__ : 38__MINUTES__]_

Jo watched Castiel throw back another few shots and shook her head. Only her mom would challenge an angel to a drinking contest.

"I think you're outmatched, Mom," she joked.

Ellen shook her head. "Never." There was a smile tugging at her mouth, and Jo relaxed. If her mom could enjoy herself that night then so could Jo.

She smiled and stood, moving to fridge for another beer. There was already an impressive collection of bottles along the kitchen counter. Never let it be said hunters couldn't handle their alcohol.

With a fresh bottle in her hand, she moved from the kitchen, leaving her mom and Castiel to their contest. Bobby had wandered off earlier in search of something in his room which left Chloe and the Winchesters in the library. She started towards them, only to stop when Sam stood from his seat. It wasn't the action that stopped her. It was the look on his face.

She bit back a laugh, recognizing the slightly uncomfortable look and guessing the reason behind it. As he moved to her side, she offered him a sympathetic smile. "Dangerous hunt tomorrow," she observed wryly, her attention split between Sam and the remaining hunters in the library.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, not bothering with false reassurance. They were facing the Devil. There was no denying the danger.

"Time to eat, drink, and for Dean to use the 'last night on Earth' speech." She turned to Sam, amused by what she saw. "Right?"

Sam shook his head, pulling his attention from the duo. "Dean's not dumb enough to try that on Chloe."

"You sure?"

He frowned in discomfort and turned to the kitchen. "Honestly. I don't want to think about it." And with that, he walked away, no doubt to get any thoughts of his brother's love life out of his head.

Jo chuckled as she watched him go, before giving Dean and Chloe another glance. They were leaning closer to each other, talking in hushed tones. That was expected. What _wasn't_ was the look in Dean's eyes as he watched Chloe. It wasn't the look Jo had learned to associate with a cheesy pickup line and too much confidence.

It was something different. Something stronger. _Real_.

And she suddenly felt like she was intruding.

She turned back to the kitchen, trying not the think of the emotion she'd seen in Dean's eyes. There had been a time she would have been jealous—hell she _was_ jealous, but Dean had never looked at her like that, which was fitting, because she had never looked at him the way Chloe was.

She'd had a crush. Those two had something more. And if she was completely honest, she was okay with that.

Besides, Winchesters were more trouble than they were worth.

Chloe had her sympathies.

_

* * *

[0__DAYS__ : 0__HOURS__ : 42__MINUTES__]_

"Cass!"

The call came a second after the Colt was fired and Meg dropped, but Castiel was prepared. He knew the odds: seven hellhounds that only he could see against six humans. He couldn't stop the hellhounds. Not for long, at least. But he wasn't useless.

Not yet.

His hands closed around the closest hunters, and he flew, pulling them out of immediate danger. They landed without a stumble, and Bobby quickly pulled out of his grip. "What the hell?" he demanded, looking between Castiel and Jo.

Castiel ignored his comment and inappropriate use of expletive. "They still have your scents. Protect yourselves." Then he was gone again, leaving the two hunters to their work.

He landed behind Chloe just as a hellhound was preparing to lunge. It froze at the sight of him and growled, irritated at having its target cut off. Castiel wasn't as powerful as he had once been, but he was still an angel. Hell's mutts were right to recognize him as a threat.

Two hounds were dead, courtesy of the Colt, but that still left five and even with a few rounds of rock salt in them they posed a threat. The last four hunters were running, attempting to put distance between them and the hounds. They were at the edge of town with no real protection in sight. Their only hope lay in their speed and the accuracy of their weapons.

Castiel caught Dean's gaze long enough to turn and grab hold of Ellen and Chloe, pulling them away. It was strategy, leaving Dean and Sam last. Lucifer wouldn't let his vessel be killed—not permanently. And Dean was Michael's vessel. Heaven wouldn't let him stay dead.

Having been pulled mid-run, the two women stumbled to their knees as soon as they landed. Bobby and Jo were at their side in an instant, pulling them to their feet.

"Why are we back here?" Bobby demanded, gesturing to the small information center around them. It was the same building they had recently vacated before being confronted by Meg.

Castiel noted the lines of salt Bobby and Jo had placed along the doorway and windows, knowing it was the best they could do for the moment. The hounds had the hunters' scents. They could run, but they'd be followed. "For safety." He met Chloe's eyes and took off when he saw understanding.

One more hound was down, when Castiel returned to the brother's side, but the Winchesters were still outnumbered. The angel faced the hounds, stalling their forward charge. "Stay!" he ordered, willing his grace to shine bright despite its weakened stated.

Sensing a threat, the hounds hesitated, but didn't drop back completely, shifting in place and growling in annoyance.

The brothers stepped closer. "How many?" Dean demanded, and Castiel heard the sound of the Colt being reloaded.

Castiel shook his head. "There's no time, Dean. You must get to Lucifer. He's about to raise Death."

"And the hellhounds are just going to stay put while we do that?" Dean shot back.

"No." Castiel saw one of the hounds inch forward and stilled it with a glare. "Not for long. They have your scents. They won't stop until they've killed you."

"Awesome." Dean finished reloading and turned to the angel. "So what do we do?"

Castiel met Dean's gaze, surprised by the trust he saw. It was good to be trusted again. "We distract them long enough for you to stop Lucifer."

The brothers nodded, listening as the hounds grew impatient.

_

* * *

[1__DAY__ : 3__HOURS__ : 10__MINUTES__]_

Castiel let himself smile when Ellen did, knowing it was the response she wanted. "I think we'd have to feed you a liquor store to get you tipsy," she acknowledged, nodding to the collection of empty shot glasses in front of him.

"Perhaps," Castiel agreed. He stood as Ellen did and moved from the kitchen. He enjoyed Ellen's company, but he wished to see the Winchesters. Admittedly he was curious about what they were doing on what was most likely their last night on Earth.

Dean and Chloe were no longer in the library, and he followed the sound of Dean's voice into the hallway. He was speaking in low tones to Chloe and standing well within the limits of what he had once called "personal space." Somehow, Castiel didn't think Chloe minded.

Neither noticed him as Dean took Chloe's hand and led her to the stairs. He watched them ascend then turned when he felt someone join him in the hallway.

"You look confused," Jo observed, a smile tugging at her mouth.

"Why would I be confused?" he asked. "It's our last night on Earth." His gaze flickered to the stairs then back to Jo. "Dean will not die a virgin."

The girl snorted, resting a hand on his arm. "Good one, Cass."

Behind them, Bobby entered the library. "Everybody get in here. It's time for the lineup." Castiel turned and saw the man was carrying a camera on a tripod. "Usual suspects in the corner."

Ellen and Sam entered the room, voicing their complaint at a picture. Bobby wasn't moved. He looked around the group and frowned. "Where are Chloe and Dean?"

"Upstairs," Castiel answered. "I don't believe they wish to be disturbed."

Jo laughed.

_

* * *

[0__DAYS__ : 0__HOURS__ : 26__MINUTES__]_

"Where are Sam and Dean?" Chloe demanded, when Castiel returned without two very important men in tow. The sound of howling echoed outside the room, putting the group on even more edge.

"Going to stop Lucifer."

"Alone?" she demanded. "We have to help them."

"You will." Castiel moved to the door then turned back to the group. The howling grew louder and realization settled on the hunters' features. "Prepare yourselves."

In the end, it was four hellhounds against four hunters, and even with an angel on their side the fight was dangerous. But they weren't just fighting for their lives. They were fighting to give the Winchesters a chance at the Devil.

They were fighting to stop the Apocalypse.

_

* * *

[0__DAYS__ : 0__HOURS__ : 13__MINUTES__]_

"Last words?"

Dean looked at his brother, catching his thoughts reflected in the younger man's eyes. He wasn't a last words kind of guy—not really—but that didn't mean he didn't have anything to say.

Luckily, even with everything they'd been through (or maybe because of it) Sam didn't need to hear him speak to know his thoughts.

"I think I'm good."

Sam nodded. "Me too."

In the end, it was two brothers against Lucifer, but even with the Colt it was an unfair fight.

_

* * *

[1__DAY__ : 1__HOURS__ : 1__MINUTES__]_

She watched him sleep, willing her body to follow suit. She was going to need her rest for the next day. They were going up against the Devil. No one thought they'd make it back.

_"We're already screwed, so…"_

But Chloe wasn't ready to accept that fate. She wasn't ready to accept any fate that ended with the death of those resting in Bobby's silent home—or sleeping pressed against her like the fragile human he rarely allowed himself to be.

_"…you sure?"_

_"Dean?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Stop talking."_

She leaned, resting her cheek against his chest. "I'm going to save you," she whispered against his skin.

Even half-asleep, he reacted, pulling her closer. "…good."

Before the end, it was a hunter and his wild card against fate—winner still undecided.

_

* * *

[0__DAYS__ : 0__HOURS__ : 0__MINUTES__]_

"I can heal you."

The words came as soon as the last hellhound fell, but no one took the offer. "You're injured, yourself."

"It's just a scratch."

Bobby grunted his disbelief then nodded to the bag Ellen carried. "We've got bandages and enough supplies to stitch everyone up. We'll survive."

"Yeah. We will."

By the end, the Colt failed and the Devil claimed himself victor, but he was wrong. Because, after the end, all six hunters and their angel ally walked away from the fight.

And they hadn't lost hope.

To Be Continued…


	69. Risen Threat

_Before…_

"No." Tess shook her head urgently, looking frightened in a way he'd never seen. Of course, he knew better than to trust Luthors or their predecessors—

"He hasn't been destroyed."

—especially when they were spouting facts he knew were impossible. "I buried him," he argued. "He's gone."

"No. Doomsday is still alive."

* * *

Before the end, it was a hunter and his wild card against fate—winner still undecided.

* * *

In the end, it was two brothers against Lucifer, but even with the Colt it was an unfair fight.

* * *

By the end, the Colt failed and the Devil claimed himself victor, but he was wrong. Because, after the end, all six hunters and their angel ally walked away from the fight.

* * *

_Now…_

_"Tomorrow's going to be dangerous. Probably deadly."_

_"Agreed."_

_"Well, I figured…we're already screwed, so…"_

_"You 'figured'? 'We're already screwed'?" A laugh. "I thought you had better lines than that, Winchester."_

_"What can I say? You make me nervous."_

_A softer laugh. "Good."_

_Hands held. Stairs climbed. Door closed tight._

_Eyes uncertain._

_"You sure?"_

_"Dean?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Stop talking."_

He remembered her—and them—first. Then, he remembered what came after.

The memories were broken and fuzzy, thanks to Lucifer introducing his head to a tree trunk. He remembered waking up in time for Castiel to zap him and Sam from danger. Sam taking the car keys then all but bundling him into the back seat. His head being pillowed by something that felt like denim and smelled like Chloe. He remembered a hand running through his hair, lulling him to sleep.

Then he remembered her again, and the bed they shared, and the feeling of lying against her in satisfied slumber.

Dean blinked, and the memory shifted, revealing that day's reality. He was still in bed, and she was still curled in front of him, but it was a day later—not the morning after.

They had faced the Devil and lost.

"We're safe." Chloe's eyes opened, and she watched him with an awareness that said she'd been awake for some time. "You're safe."

He reached over and brushed some loose hair from her face, careful of the new cut above her eyebrow. They were still settled on their sides, facing each other. "We lost."

"We survived," she countered and reached up to grab his hand, keeping it trapped against her cheek. Her movements shifted the sleeve of her blouse, revealing a fresh bandage around her forearm. She read his thoughts before he could vocalize them, mouth twisting into a hesitant smile. "It's only a flesh wound."

"The hellhounds," he guessed, pulling his hand free to rest on the bandage. "What about the others?"

"Same. Nothing we can't bounce back from. Castiel kept us away from the worst."

"You didn't heal them?" She had healed Bobby's paralysis. He couldn't imagine she wouldn't heal some minor hellhound wounds.

Chloe's smile shifted to bemusement. "They wouldn't let me. They seem to think scars are a mark of valor."

"They are," Dean agreed, not sure if he should be grateful for his friends' decision or worried they were still injured. "Chicks dig scars."

She rolled her eyes, but kept smiling. He remembered her smile from before their predicted last day on Earth. The way it had grown as he'd fumbled one of his most trusted lines and stood there hoping she'd give him a chance anyway.

They'd been there before—at the end of the world—when Sam had run off with Ruby and civilization had faced the start of the Apocalypse. He'd turned to her then for relief and she'd responded, only to have the moment cut short.

The second time they'd faced their last night on Earth, he'd turned to her again, except not in search of relief. He'd known the odds. They were going to face the Devil. There was little chance of survival. He hadn't needed relief.

He'd just wanted to be with her. It had been their last night on Earth, after all. He wouldn't get another chance.

Then he did.

They'd faced the Devil and lost, but they had another chance.

Chloe's eyes narrowed as she studied him. "Dean?"

_He_ had another chance.

"Chloe?" he echoed, returning his hand to her cheek and trailing it to her neck.

And he was going to take full advantage of their second chance, starting with her—and them.

"We survived," he acknowledged, rubbing his thumb along her jaw.

Understanding showed on her face, and she nodded in agreement, leaning into his touch. He took it for permission and leaned forward to capture her mouth with his. He had time to worry about their failure and new plan of attack later. For now, he had her.

She slid closer, tucking herself against him and leaning into the kiss. In response, Dean's hand slid down to her hip then circled around and pulled her closer, pressing her hips against his. It was a choreographed dance they'd only learned the day before, but he was familiar with the steps, and Chloe was a strong partner. She wrapped her free leg around him, keeping them pressed together as he shifted their positions.

He pulled back for a moment, looking down at her from his position straddled above her. He remembered how she had looked at him during their last night on Earth. There had been desire and intensity and everything he'd been feeling. She was looking at him the same way the second time around, but there was something else in her eyes. As his lips returned to hers and his hands settled on her curves, he gave a name to the new emotion in her eyes:

Hope.

* * *

The park in front of the motel was quiet. Sam was almost willing to call it peaceful. When he'd been younger, he'd always marveled at the fact that parts of the world could be peaceful, even while other parts were tainted with evil. The night before, he'd faced the Devil—stood in front of him as he worked a ritual to raise Death. He'd looked ultimate evil in the face and had threatened to rip its heart out.

And yet, the next morning, he was met with a quiet park and blue skies.

Just another morning after for a Winchester.

As he watched the quiet park, footfalls sounded behind him, announcing his brother's presence. Wordlessly, Dean sat down beside him on the bench and snagged a cup of coffee from the holder between them. From the corner of his eye, Sam saw his brother take a sip of the drink then screw up his face in disgust.

"It's cold," he grumbled, shoving the cup back into the holder.

"If you had been up an hour ago, it would have been hot." Sam turned to face his brother, silently studying him for any sign of the concussion he'd had the night before.

Dean smiled slowly. "I was up," he insisted.

"Mmhmm." Sam grimaced, deciding he didn't want details. With Dean, he could probably _guess_ the details.

"Where is everyone?" his brother asked, thankfully translating Sam's mumble.

"They left. Castiel returned to his search for God," Sam ignored Dean's grunt of disbelief. "Ellen and Jo had a job to get back to, and Bobby was itching to get back to his library. Death has risen and he's determined to stay ahead of the horseman."

"Staying ahead implies being ahead," Dean pointed out skeptically. "From my calculations, we're still ten steps behind."

"Only ten?" Sam asked with forced humor. He shot his brother a look, knowing he shared his own tainted hope for the future.

Dean actually smiled at the small joke—a _real_ smile. "Call me an optimist."

Sam just shook his head, not daring to comment. He remembered the defeat in his brother's concussed eyes after he'd awoken to world still threatened by the Devil. He wasn't sure what had changed between then and now, but he wasn't going to question it. "How's your head?" he asked, instead.

"Still attached." Dean made to grab the coffee again then decided against it. "Fine," he amended. "Though I'm a little fuzzy on how we went from Jasper's farm to," he glanced up at the motel sign, "Golden Fields Inn." He frowned. "Where are we, anyway?"

"Topeka, Kansas."

"Huh." Dean sat back in his seat. "Think we ran far enough?" he asked, and Sam knew better than to correct his verb choice. They _had_ run.

"I hope so."

Dean nodded. It was the best they could ask.

Sam gestured in the direction of the motel room. "Where's Chloe?"

"On a superhero business call," Dean answered, glancing back at the motel as he spoke. "Those men in tights are lucky they didn't interrupt anything this time."

"Interrupt?" Sam groaned. "Dude, I don't need to know that."

Dean smiled again, looking like a pleased teenager instead of the almost thirty-one year old he was. "Don't be such a prude, Sammy."

Sam turned his attention to the park. A number of responses playing through his head, ranging from his complete discomfort at knowing anything about Dean and Chloe's _sex life_ to a simple inquiry as to how the room assignments would continue to work out. "Just…be careful," he settled on.

There was a pause, and he imagined his brother coming up with a response that was equal parts disturbing and mocking. After a beat, Dean found his answer. "It's _Chloe_."

Sam wasn't sure if that comforted or worried him. Perhaps both.

A door opened and slammed shut behind them, causing both brothers to turn in time to see Chloe hurrying their way. Her cell phone was gripped tight in her hand, and Sam saw worry lining her face. Wherever Dean had picked up his optimism, he hadn't shared any with Chloe.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked, standing to meet her.

"I need to get to Metropolis," she said, instead of answering.

Sam stood as well, surprised by her tone more so than her words. "Why?"

Chloe swallowed, visibly willing herself to calm. "Doomsday is alive."

* * *

Chloe was never more grateful for Dean's lead foot than she was the moment the Impala pulled up to Watchtower a full hour ahead of schedule. She climbed from the backseat as soon as the car was parked, only pausing long enough to watch the brothers follow suit. Her team was upstairs. They had all gathered, after hearing the news.

And she was about to throw two hunters into the mix.

It should have been slightly unnerving, or even surreal, but she had just walked away from a confrontation with the Devil himself. She'd passed surreal two archangels ago.

"Do they know we're coming with you?" Sam asked as they stepped into the elevator. She knew he was thinking along the same lines as she had been. There was a group of unmasked superheroes in Watchtower, and she was bringing in two outsiders.

She looked up at the brothers standing to her left. "They trust legally dead men to keep their secrets," she said by way of answering.

Understanding crossed the brothers' faces as the elevator stopped and opened. "Lead the way, Watchtower," Dean said, falling into step behind her.

She continued forward, pushing through the double doors that led to Watchtower. As she stepped inside, there was an audible pause from the pair behind her—not unlike the one she'd had the first time she'd stepped into the superhero base. The headquarters was nothing if not impressive. A glance over her shoulder confirmed the expressions of near-awe on her friends' faces. For the first time since getting the stressed call from Clark, she let herself smile. "Welcome to Watchtower."

The brothers nodded in sync, still examining their surroundings. "Impressive," Sam finally offered.

"That's a word for it," Dean agreed then pulled his attention back to Chloe and the superheroes standing in a loose group in front of them.

"You got here fast," Bart noted with forced humor. It was that fact alone that told Chloe how grave the situation was. Bart's humor was lacking. The world was in danger. The speedster gestured for them to join him and the other heroes in front of the main computer screen, but Chloe held back. Someone was missing.

"Where's Clark?"

Oliver pointed to the upper level. "He and John are handling another crisis."

"Because one is not enough," AC commented, his attention still on the screen before him.

Chloe glanced over at the Winchesters, knowing they were thinking the same thing she was—with the Devil walking the Earth, their list of crises rose to at least three. _And that doesn't include the recently risen Angel of Death. _

"Alright," Chloe said, not bothering to voice her thoughts. "Can you guys fill Sam and Dean in on what you've got so far? I'm going to go see what our resident aliens are up to."

Oliver looked from her to the two brothers then back. "I don't think—"

"Oliver, you trust me, right?" The green archer nodded. "Then trust them," Chloe directed.

With a brief smile at the Winchesters, she moved past the group and up the stairs. She couldn't quite imagine what kind of crisis Clark and John were handling, but she knew one thing—after facing hellhounds, the Devil and Death's rising, there was little that could faze her.

* * *

Dean watched Chloe mount the stairs then turned to the group of superheroes in front of him. He'd only ever seen Oliver Queen out of his costume, but he had a feeling that the other four were the same four heroes he'd encountered months earlier at a haunted factory. He eyed the group's sole woman, remembering the threat the blonde, leather-clad hero had thrown at him. She didn't look quite as intimidating out of her costume.

Oliver stepped forward, pulling his attention to the billionaire. "Do you know about Doomsday?"

Dean bristled at the man's tone. _He kidnapped Chloe from her motel room. That count?_

Sam spoke first, cutting off Dean's sharp response. "Big, scary alien destroyer? Yeah, we've heard." Sam's tone leaned towards annoyed and Dean smiled. There were times he appreciated the way his brother could win anyone over with a look and soft tone. Then there were time he enjoyed watching him intimidate someone with the opposite technique.

Oliver frowned, but when he continued his tone had lost its edge. "We buried him months ago a mile under the earth. We thought he was gone."

"Squished," the shorter hero added.

"Then we got a tip that said otherwise." Oliver pointed to the screen his team had been studying. A number of windows dotted the screen and Dean could only make out what half of them meant. From what he understood, it wasn't good. "Turns out the tip was true," Oliver continued.

"Could it be a hoax?" Dean asked, nodding to a window that seemed to be calculating the heat radiation of a specific location—Doomsday's grave, he'd guess. "By someone who would benefit from you thinking the alien was still alive?"

"No." Oliver shook his head. "We checked."

The black hero met Dean's gaze. "_Chloe_ checked," he added.

Dean only nodded, recognizing the final word when he heard it. Chloe had checked. They didn't need more proof than that. He could appreciate that frame of thought.

"What are you going to do?" Sam asked, his attention moving from the screen back to Oliver.

"There's not much we can do. Clark is the only one powerful enough to stop Doomsday." There was uncertainty in Queen's tone, and Dean caught the hidden fear. He wasn't sure Clark would be enough.

"And what do _we_ do?" Dean wasn't sure he wanted a role in the battle against the alien destroyer. He had enough to handle in the supernatural world. But Chloe was a part of the fight, and that meant he would help.

Reading his thoughts, Oliver's gaze wandered up to the small blonde then back to Dean. "Chloe's going to want to be in this fight as far as she can go. Just keep her safe."

"Always."

* * *

Up close, the object looked no more impressive than a decorated 8-ball. Chloe would have dismissed the orb's strength on appearance alone, if she didn't already know what she did about Kryptonian artifacts. A small eight-sided disc had transported her to Clark's fortress on more than one occasion. It wasn't a stretch to expect more from the orb.

She was just grateful her team had managed to steal it from Tess's possession after realizing its importance. The last thing they needed was another Luthor heir with their hands on Kryptonian technology.

"This is how Tess knew Doomsday wasn't dead?" Chloe asked, looking from the orb to the two men across the table from her. "Was it supposed to do something?"

Clark shook his head uncertainly. "She didn't tell us much. Just that it spoke to her about my destiny against my greatest enemy."

"I think once Doomsday is dead, the orb's full potential will be realized," John added. He held out his hand, showing her the small shield shaped object that looked like it fit into the hole on the orb. "Of course, only if the orb is whole."

"And what happens when it ends up in the wrong hands and they put the orb together again?" Chloe asked, because she knew to expect the worst _then_ hope she was wrong.

"I'm taking it to the Fortress. Jor-el will know how to stop it."

"And if he doesn't?"

Clark frowned at her, his expression curious like he was studying her. _Is something wrong?_ Before he could ask the question in his eyes, an alarm sounded from the floor below.

Chloe shook her head wryly. _Just the end of the world._

"We've got movement," Victor called, explaining the sudden alarm.

Chloe moved to the railing and saw the team looking up at them. Bart didn't even attempt a smile when he caught her gaze. "The Devil has risen," he declared.

_You have no idea.

* * *

_

The tension in the air was palpable as Chloe, Clark and John joined the rest of them on the main level. Sam eyed Chloe, but her attention was on Clark. She was watching him with a level of concern Sam knew to recognize as the look he and Dean received before heading off on a dangerous hunt. Worry was an understatement.

"He's out," Oliver repeated. "He'll be headed towards Metropolis."

"Clark," Chloe started, making to grab her friend's arm. There was a burst of wind, and Clark was gone before she could grab a hold. "…be careful," she finished, closing her empty hand.

"That's our cue," Oliver decided. "We can't stop Doomsday, but we can try and save the city."

The team moved to the door, but Chloe stayed where she was. Sam shared a surprised look with Dean. They'd expected Chloe to charge out with her team. Oliver paused at the door, turning back to Chloe with the same look Sam had shared with his brother.

Chloe waved him off. "I know you don't want me out in the field. So don't question me when I opt to stay behind. I'll handle things here."

Oliver didn't argue, just followed the rest of the team out the door.

A beat after the door shut, Dean turned to Chloe. "Liar," he stated, voicing Sam's own thoughts.

"What?"

"Like hell you're going to sit here behind the computer screens while Clark goes to fight the Hulk." Dean gestured to the screen that had just announced Doomsday's resurrection. "You dropped sidekick status a long time ago."

Chloe offered him a grateful smile. "Compliment noted, but that's not why I'm staying back."

"Then why?"

Her smile fell serious again. "To get the Colt."

* * *

By the time Clark found the alien monster on the edge of Metropolis, Doomsday had already created a crater of destruction around him. Buildings were torn down, cars on fire and people running scared—those who could still run. A pang of guilt shot through him and he charged the monster, dragging him away from the wreckage.

It was his fault Doomsday wasn't dead yet. He couldn't have any more blood on his hands. He'd sworn to protect Earth.

And that was exactly what he was going to do.

Doomsday twisted out of Clark's hold, before he could be pulled too far from town and innocent bystanders. Together, they landed on a parked car, startling the few citizens who were still out in the late evening.

Clark heard frightened screams as he pushed himself off of Doomsday, driving the creature further into the wrecked car. Ignoring the sounds of fear around him, he stood with a burst of superspeed then just as quickly slammed back down on top of Doomsday.

The monster managed to bring up a fist as Clark fell, throwing his aim off and knocking him off the car's damaged body. Instead of landing alongside the wreckage, the force of the fist threw him across the street and into the base of a light pole.

The pole gave a loud groan as it tipped backwards and crashed in the yard behind it. Clark could only hope the yard's owners would stay inside.

He jumped to his feet just as Bart appeared behind Doomsday. "Distraction!" the speedster yelled, earning Doomsday's attention. The monster growled his displeasure at a new opponent, and charged the small hero, destroying cars, mailboxes and another light pole in the process. Clark charged after the duo, putting as much speed and strength behind his clenched fist as he could. He reached Doomsday in a flash and Bart disappeared, distracting the monster long enough for Clark to deliver his blow.

Doomsday sailed down the now-empty street. His landing drove him in and through part of the street until he'd left a hole nearly a block long.

With little hesitation, the monster stood and grabbed the nearest projectile—a parked motorcycle. Clark braced himself to catch the flying vehicle and prayed for a plan.

He was the only one who could stop Doomsday.

And he was worried he was losing.

* * *

For the second time that day, Dean drove with a lead foot, fearing what would happen if he was late. As he drove, Chloe threw directions at him, her attention split between her earpiece and the road in front of them. She had gotten a hold of Oliver and was getting directions from him on Doomsday's closest location.

From the sound of it, the fight between Clark and Doomsday was happening over a large area.

"Then where are _you_ Arrow?" Chloe pressed, sounding more irate than Dean had heard her in a long time.

"No, I'm not staying behind. I can help. Now tell me—okay…thank you." She pointed to the next street. "Make a left."

Dean did as he was directed, meeting Sam's worried glance in the rearview mirror. His long-legged brother had volunteered to fit himself in the back so Chloe could ride shotgun and give directions easier. As Chloe's conversation with Oliver became sharper and more laced with stress, Dean couldn't help wondering if part of his brother's motivation for the back seat had been to stay out of the line of fire.

Chloe was on edge, and she was letting the world know.

"I see you," Chloe announced a second before Dean saw what she had.

He stopped quickly as the road suddenly ended in a pile of destruction. A block away, Dean saw a creature he'd only encountered second-hand. It wasn't an image he was prepared for. It wasn't an image he wanted to associate with Chloe and her life as a superhero. He'd never had such a strong urge to bundle Chloe up and keep her locked away safe from any danger than at that moment.

Unfortunately, Chloe wasn't one to allow anyone to lock her up, for safety or otherwise. As if to prove that point, she stepped from the Impala as soon as it was stopped and ran forwards—directly towards the monster.

"Chloe…!" Dean started, only to be cut off by the slamming of her door. "I'm going to kill her," he muttered angrily, shoving open his own door in pursuit.

"She's got the Colt," Sam reminded him as he followed in a quick jog.

Dean frowned, not taking the piece of information as the weak assurance it was supposed to be. "Great. She can be buried with it."

* * *

Chloe heard her name called from her teammates as she got closer to the alien monster and her best friend. They were all stationed on the other side of the battling Kryptonians, struggling to aid Clark, but unable to find an opening. She ignored their calls and continued forward until she was close enough for a shot.

Clark was down. She had to act quickly.

She aimed. She knew how to shoot. She'd learned before meeting the Winchesters, and had only improved since. Doomsday was hardly moving, too intent on pummeling the body in its grip. Easy shot.

She fired. Two shots. One to the head, one to the chest, and Doomsday crumpled. She didn't stop to wonder if he was down for good. She knew death when she saw it. Shoving the Colt into the back of her pants, she charged forward, her attention focused on Clark and nothing else. He wasn't moving, and she knew what that meant, just as certainly as she knew the creature he'd been fighting was dead.

Clark was dying. Or worse.

"Clark?" She dropped to her knees beside his bloody form. Rocks and glass dug into her knees, but she ignored them. She ran a hand over his forehead, chest, arm, looking for any sign of life. "Clark, please," she begged, pressing a hand to his chest.

Nothing.

"Alright." She nodded. "Alright, it'll be fine." She was mumbling now, talking out loud as if to comfort him, even when she knew he couldn't hear her. Closing her eyes, she concentrated, wondering just how much of her powers she was going to have to use on Clark, or if she even had the power to bring him back to life. She'd only healed the dying before, never the dead. But it didn't matter. It was Clark. She had to try.

She felt her power kick in as her hand lit up, hovering over Clark's chest—

"Chloe, don't!"

A hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her back, keeping her from her goal. "Don't," the voice repeated. "You can't."

She frowned up at John, blinking away tears she hadn't realized had formed. "I have to."

"It won't work," he argued, not releasing his hold on her wrist. "Your powers come from meteor rocks. Clark's Kryptonian. You can't save him." The last part was said like an apology, his face softening and his grip on her wrist shifting until he was comforting instead of restraining.

She shook her head, ignoring the tears that continued to fall. "I can't let him die, John. I can't."

He released her wrist and pulled her close, speaking into her hair. "He's already gone."

To Be Continued…


	70. Shattered Walls

_Before…_

By the end, the Colt failed and the Devil claimed himself victor, but he was wrong. Because, after the end, all six hunters and their angel ally walked away from the fight.

And they hadn't lost hope.

* * *

Chloe shook her head, ignoring the tears that continued to fall. "I can't let him die, John. I can't."

He released her wrist and pulled her close, speaking into her hair. "He's already gone."

* * *

  
_Now…_

Ice. Cold. Ice cold and completely breathtaking. Looking back, Sam knew that was how he would remember the fortress in the arctic, but at the moment his attention stayed on the small blonde shivering in her winter gear. Somehow he doubted the shivers were all from the cold.

Clark Kent was dead, killed by a creature he'd fought to protect the world. He'd given his life in his effort to save mankind. Sam only wished his own attempt to save the world could be that simple.

None of that mattered, though. For the moment, all that mattered was the woman who stood under Dean's arm, commanding attention from Jor-el, an alien who had died decades earlier.

On the drive from Metropolis to the caves of Smallville, Chloe had filled Sam and Dean in on Clark's heritage—his alien heritage. She'd hesitated at first, unable to expose the secret even after Clark's death. Sam and Dean had sat in silence, knowing better than to push. Secrets were one thing they understood almost too well.

An hour before the caves, she'd finally started talking. The facts were unbelievable. The story was incredible. And Sam had suddenly wondered just how significant the Devil walking the Earth was in comparison to something like the Kryptonian's destruction and resulting influence on their planet.

The Devil was walking the Earth, but he wasn't alone. Aliens walked among them, too.

And Sam was standing in the middle of an ice fortress that looked much like the long since destroyed Krypton—nothing would surprise him ever again.

"Jor-el. I know you're here," Chloe yelled into the ice rafters. "I need your help." She held up the small orb as if to show it to the formless alien. The additional piece of the orb—a shield-shaped object—sat securely in Sam's pocket. He clasped a hand around it as Chloe continued. "Clark, your son, is dead. Kal-el is dead. He died trying to protect Earth just like you trained him to. Now, I need your help to keep the world safe. I need to know how to destroy the orb."

There was a stretch of silence, and Sam caught Dean's gaze. They both expected Chloe to throw in the towel. Jor-el clearly wasn't listening. As Chloe took another breath, obviously planning to make another plea to the alien, a voice finally answered back.

"Chloe Sullivan. Kal-el's greatest ally."

Instinctively, Sam stepped closer to Chloe as the disembodied voice boomed around them. The supernatural he could handle. Against the supernatural he had a chance of protecting his loved ones. He wasn't so sure about an extraterrestrial threat.

"That orb was created to preserve the Kryptonian race." Sam saw Chloe frown at that piece of information. "But, I believe its use is not in the Earth's best interest," Jor-el declared.

As he spoke, the consol in front of them that had provided their fast trip to the frozen north lit up. "Place the orb among the crystals," Jor-el's voice instructed.

Without a look at either brother, Chloe did as she was instructed. Once the orb was in place, the crystals lit up. Sam briefly worried they had been tricked. Before he could voice his worry, the glow died, leaving nothing but a black sphere behind. It had been neutralized—at least he could only assume it had. He knew far too little about alien technology to be sure of anything.

He pulled the shield from his pocket and saw that it had turned the same black color. It was no longer bright with alien potential. It was now nothing more than a paper weight.

Chloe turned to face them, leaving the orb where it sat. "It's done," she said, confirming Sam's suspicions.

"Chloe Sullivan," Jor-el's voice boomed around them again. "Mankind's greatest strength is its capacity for good. Because of this, it will always have a savior."

Chloe didn't respond beyond a simple nod, already reaching for the medallion that would send them back. The brothers stepped closer as she brought the medallion to the consol—Jor-el's assurances coming to an end:

"All is not lost."

* * *

"Are you sure?"

"Your friend needs your help. You should go."

Dean studied the small blonde, trying to read through her neutral expression. It had been two weeks since the Colt had failed against the Devil, but had ended Doomsday. Two weeks since they had survived the Devil only to watch Clark Kent die trying to stop Doomsday.

Chloe was devastated. Dean knew it, even if she didn't show it. He'd watched her cry over Kent's body. He'd seen the heartache in her eyes. As she'd cried in John Jones' arms, Dean had prepared himself for days of spontaneous tears and weeks of spirit dampening sadness.

When she'd woken up the next morning dry-eyed and asking about the next hunt, Dean had felt the emotional wall she hid herself behind as if it were a tangible thing.

Chloe wasn't going to let herself deal with Clark's death, and Dean knew just how hypocritical it was to be bothered by that reaction.

"Besides," Chloe continued quickly as if sensing his thoughts. "I've got stuff to deal with in Metropolis and Smallville."

_Stuff_. Clark Kent's death and the resulting consequences had been demoted to _stuff_.

"Okay," he agreed, instead of arguing. "Okay, but call me if you need anything."

Chloe nodded. "Sure."

Behind her, Sam appeared at the motel doorway, having finished packing the car. "Ready?" he asked, giving the question more meaning with a loaded look.

Dean eyed Chloe, hoping she'd let down her walls, yet relieved when she didn't. She was strong. She could handle it. There would be more time to mourn when the Apocalypse was over. "Yeah, let's go."

* * *

After handing Sam and Dean off to Nurse _Okey Dokey_, Chloe had driven the four plus hours back to Metropolis without stopping. It felt good to be behind the wheel again. The Impala was comfortable enough, but she had missed the control of driving her own vehicle.

Besides, there were times when she felt she was in the way when she sat in the back seat of the Impala. Neither of the brothers had ever mentioned any problem with the seating arrangements, but she knew it was probably only a matter of time before her presence became more of an intrusion—and it didn't help that she had a new found place in Dean's bed, leaving Sam on his own.

She knew the brothers were still on rocky ground with each other. If she wasn't careful, she'd be the thing that drove them apart—maybe permanently. She couldn't be the one who stopped them from moving past the problems they'd faced. It was a long road back from the loss of trust they'd felt after Sam had helped raise Lucifer—and before that. She could only hope working the asylum case together would help keep them on the right track to brotherhood.

In the mean time, she had problems to handle back in Kansas. With the Blur gone, there was a need for a new hero. Metropolis already knew of the hero's passing. Chloe had tried to keep the news from spreading before they were ready, but _Daily Planet_ reporters were nothing if not persistent—especially her cousin.

The city had had a memorial a week earlier, and its citizens had been on edge since then. Green Arrow had stepped up his surveillance of the city, increasing his sightings to pacify residents. Unfortunately, they didn't seem ready to replace the Blur with Green Arrow. Chloe was more worried that the unrest in the city would lead to a surge in criminal activities.

_Your fault._

Chloe glared at her reflection in the rearview mirror. She didn't have time for guilt, especially not when her accusing conscience sounded like Clark. She had work to do.

* * *

"To be frank, the relationship you have with your brother seems dangerously codependent."

Sam blinked, looking from the doctor to his brother. _Codependent?_ Him and Dean? At one time, maybe, but not lately—at least not in the sense the doctor meant.

After Dean had pulled him from his brief retirement from hunting, Sam had insisted that they couldn't go back to the way things had been. They had to work as equal partners. Though, that didn't mean Sam didn't miss when they'd been closer brothers. When the doctor's use of _codependent_ would have been a little closer to the truth.

Of course, the brotherhood they'd had before—before Ruby, before Dean's deal, maybe even before Dad's death—had involved just the two of them. It had been him and Dean against the world.

The new partnership they were slowly forming came with another partner. It was no longer just the two of them. Somewhere between Lucifer's rise and their confrontation with War, Chloe had become a permanent fixture in their lives. She still had her life in Metropolis, but the times she'd split from them to return home had decreased significantly.

He knew if it hadn't been for Doomsday, Chloe wouldn't have gone back to Metropolis when she had. She had declared herself part of the fight against the Apocalypse, and she was sticking with them until they saved the planet.

Sam frowned as he followed the doctor to the group session. Chloe was staying with them until they stopped the Apocalypse, but what about after?

What happened when they won—_if_ they won?

Would she stay?

* * *

Dean prepared himself as his shrink sat across from him. She was hot, he'd give her that. He just wasn't in the mood to get his head examined. He didn't need a shrink to tell him he was screwed up. He knew that all on his own.

Going to Hell would do that to a person.

Being raised as a _hunter_ would do that to a person.

Dean was unlucky enough to have experienced both. And now, he was Heaven's chosen vessel.

Yeah, he was pretty much the epitome of screwed in the head.

"I'll go first," Dr. Cartwright said, resting her arms on the table to look him in the eye. "How many hours a night do you sleep?"

Easy question first. He could handle that. And if she answered his questions while she was at it, then maybe he could get something out of the interview—besides a deeper look inside his messed up head.

After two easy questions from his shrink, and two possible monsters checked off his mental list. Dean felt hopeful. Maybe Dr. Cartwright wasn't interested in a thorough head-examination. Maybe he could get off easy.

Almost in response, his shrink sat back in her seat with a knowing look on her face, and his hope died. The time for easy questions was over.

"When was the last time you were in a long term relationship?"

Dean kept his expression neutral. "Define long term."

"More than two months."

He frowned. He didn't need to be truthful to his shrink. He wasn't even going to be in the clinic for much longer. "Define relationship," he asked, instead of answering. _Never_ would be the easy answer. But his life had stopped being made up of easy answers years ago.

"Preferably not of the Internet kind," Dr. Cartwright elaborated. "Someone you see on a regular basis, have feelings for, and see a possible future with."

Dean knew his interpretation of those factors wouldn't match the ones his shrink had in mind, but that didn't change his answer. "I'm in one."

* * *

Chloe tried not to cringe when she saw her caller ID. She hadn't had a full conversation with Lois since her last visit to Metropolis—before the Devil and Doomsday. As one of the coordinators of the Blur's memorial, Lois knew the hero was dead. She didn't, however, know Clark was dead too. That was one story Chloe wasn't ready to let her break yet—not until she was sure she could keep Clark's death separate from the Blur's.

"Hi, Lois," she greeted, keeping her tone neutral.

"Oh good, you _do_ know how to answer a phone," Lois snarked in lieu of a greeting. "I was beginning to wonder."

Chloe rolled her eyes tiredly. "I've been busy, Lois. Remember, hunting Casper?"

"Sure, I know. And while you were out killing ghosts and ghouls did you happen to hear from Clark? He's been MIA for two weeks now."

_Just tell her I'm dead._

"I thought he was visiting his mom?" Chloe asked, remembering the cover story she had formed with the help of the team and Mrs. Kent. "He's in D.C."

"Yeah, I know that." Chloe could just imagine her cousin's exasperated nod and resulting gesticulations. "It's just, I tried calling him a couple times and I keep getting his answering machine. So far, I'm oh for ten on the callbacks. It's not like him to not answer his phone."

_She's going to find out eventually._

"I'm sorry, Lois. He and I have been on a communications hiatus for—"

_forever_

"—a while. I think he's heading back today. You'll be able to lecture him on his phone etiquette in no time."

_Liar._

Chloe nodded, agreeing with her inner Clark conscience. It was the worst lie she'd ever told. She was giving her cousin false hope, when she knew that by the next day Clark Kent would officially be dead—a victim of a hit and run.

She couldn't help but believe it was for the best, though. If Clark Kent and the Blur died within days of each other, Lois—the bloodhound for a story—would have no problem creating theories and following them until she had Clark exposed as the true hero he was. In reality, a post-mortem de-masking wouldn't be any more damaging than the mortem had been—_morbid humor doesn't suit you, Chloe_—but she had spent years keeping Clark's secret. She wasn't going to stop.

"Yeah, you're right," Lois said with a sigh. "Well, let me know if he learns how to use a phone and calls you."

Chloe agreed then hung up and dropped her phone, struggling not to let her head follow. Feeling sorry for herself wasn't going to fix anything. It wasn't going to make her lies any less false. It wasn't going to make Clark any less dead.

_You failed._

She'd failed, Clark was dead—and she was hearing voices.

She was probably going crazy.

* * *

"Maybe you're going crazy."

"I'm not crazy."

Dean frowned as he listened to his brother's drugged opinion on his current frame of mind. He couldn't wait to get out of the clinic and away from people who wanted to examine his head. First, Dr. Cartwright had pressed him on issues with his dad. Now, Sam was trying to get him to confront the fact that he'd probably been _half crazy_ for most of his life.

He wasn't crazy. He just had a hard life—a very hard life. He wanted to believe that once the Devil was dead he could finally step back from the life of a hunter—preferably before he ended up like Martin.

In reality, he knew that he'd never be done hunting. It wasn't in him to quit.

But even if he couldn't stop, that didn't mean he was crazy.

He wasn't crazy.

* * *

Save for a few phone calls, the Watchtower had been silent for two days. Unfortunately, Chloe's inner Clark-shaped Jiminy Cricket had only used the silence to his advantage. If Clark ever came back from the grave, he wouldn't be able to tell her anything her guilty, identity-confused conscience hadn't already whispered to her.

Clark was dead, both physically and legally. He'd "died" two days before—body unrecoverable—and Chloe had spent the last day getting all the necessary paperwork ready, including a last minute plane ticket for Mrs. Kent. Everything was set. The funeral was the next day. And Chloe just wanted it to be over.

"Well, mark this as the most depressing week ever."

Chloe looked up as Oliver made his way to her desk. "That's one way to put it," she muttered.

The billionaire perched on the edge of her desk without disturbing the various piles of paper scattered across the top. "You know, you could have done more."

"With what?" Chloe demanded, gesturing to everything in front of her. "Besides burying Clark six feet under, there's not much left to do." The official police report said Clark's body had been destroyed beyond recognition, when his car had started on fire. In reality, though, his body was buried in Metropolis in front of a gravestone that proclaimed how much the city appreciated the Blur.

"Come on, Chloe," Oliver chided. "You know what I mean. I'm talking about before Clark died. You _knew_ how dangerous Doomsday was. You should have gotten there sooner, instead of assuming Clark could handle it. He died because you didn't act fast enough."

Chloe shook her head, denying his words that seemed to echo from her head. "I did the best I could."

"True, but that doesn't change the fact that your best always comes a step too late." Oliver was still sitting, and even as his tone grew harsher, his expression stayed calm. "Your delay in action cost this city its greatest hero—not that it matters, the world is going to Hell anyway—excuse the pun."

Chloe didn't even think to question his knowledge, just sat, waiting for him to finish. It was clear he wasn't through—and if she was honest with herself, she'd say she'd been expecting it for days.

"And it's all thanks to your slow response," Oliver continued. "You couldn't save Clark. You couldn't save your _mom_. You failed to save Dean from his deal. And then after that _spectacular_ fumble you let his brother spend the entire year palling around with a _demon_. Sam brought on the Apocalypse, because you weren't fast enough to catch on to his extracurricular activities."

Chloe frowned, finally catching on to an important fact. "You shouldn't know all that."

Oliver shrugged. "Doesn't mean it isn't true. You've doomed the world, Chloe. We're in the middle of the _Apocalypse_ and one of our greatest ally's is dead. Whether I should know that or not is irrelevant."

"_Christo_," Chloe tried, going on instinct and anger. Oliver had taken Clark's death hard, but he'd never blame her—even if he'd be right to do so.

The thing wearing Oliver laughed as its eyes bled black. "Doesn't mean it isn't true," he repeated. "And it looks like I should add letting your teammate get possessed to your list of accomplishments."

"Oliver wears an amulet," she argued as if that would negate the fact that he was clearly possessed.

"Funny thing about amulets: they can be removed."

Chloe swallowed her response and started an exorcism, waiting for the moment the demon would begin twitching. When it smiled instead, she faltered.

"That's not going to work, Sweetheart."

"But—" Chloe started then blinked and Oliver vanished. "…but you're not real. I'm going crazy. And we're all doomed."

_Now you get it._

* * *

"The world is gonna burn and there is nothing you can do about it."

Dean frowned, going from annoyed to angry like a flip of a switch. He didn't need this. He didn't need his shrink—who shouldn't know a _thing_ about the Apocalypse, his failure to kill the Devil, or his breaking of the first Seal—throwing accusations at him. He had enough to deal with.

"Who are you?" he demanded, moving closer to the woman as she continued to give him pleased smirk. "How do you know that stuff?"

She was probably a demon, or someone sent from Heaven to get under his skin. Some new tactic Zachariah had chosen to get him to say 'yes' to Michael. He looked up as an orderly moved closer. "Who is she?" he asked, pointing to his shrink with disgust.

Dean watched the orderly sigh in annoyance, and felt his anger grow. The orderly was bothered by _him_. Dean would like to show him how bothered really felt. It felt a lot like some woman swooping into his life, digging around in his head, and then telling him he had no hope of stopping the Apocalypse.

"Who?" The orderly asked tiredly.

"What are you blind? Her!" Dean pointed to his shrink again. There was no way the orderly couldn't see her. She was standing right in front of him—

"Pal, there's nobody there."

Dean blinked, returning his gaze to the very real looking woman in front of him. She smiled as realization hit. "I'm not real, Dean," she said, confirming his thoughts. "I'm in your head, 'cause you are going crazy."

* * *

It was the nurse.

Sam should have known she was the wraith.

And they'd walked right into her trap.

"You and your brother come in here, talking tough about killing monsters," she frowned in mock-disapproval. "Kinda made you easy to spot. Then all it took was a touch, and you were mine."

Sam lost sight of her as she moved behind his head. He pulled at his restraints, needing to get free. "And that girlfriend of yours… It's too bad I couldn't get the doctor to keep _her_ under observation. So much crazy in one head, and now that I've doped her." The wraith gave an almost sad sigh. "Her brain would be so delicious. Such a waste."

Sam rage shot up at the thought of the wraith getting her hands on Chloe. He was going to get free, and he was going to kill the wraith himself. She was the one who was messing with their heads, making them see things and _feel_ things. He was going crazy, but it was all her fault.

"I don't make crazy," the wraith argued, moving from his head to the side of the bed. "I just crank up what's already there." She sat down, smiling at him. "You build your own Hell, but I give you the legos."

No. It wasn't true. It was her influence that had Sam seeing things and feeling things he'd never experienced before. Sam knew he wasn't normal, but the _anger_ he felt wasn't his. It couldn't be.

He wasn't crazy.

* * *

By the day of Clark's funeral, Chloe felt like Scrooge on the night before Christmas. Only, instead of the Ghosts of Christmas, she was being visited by some of her greatest fears.

After Oliver, Lois had appeared before her. She'd sobbed and ranted then walked through a wall like a spirit or apparition. No explanation had been given, but Chloe hadn't needed one. That was Lois—dead and heartbroken. Dead, because Chloe hadn't been there to save her from the monsters in the dark. And heartbroken, because Chloe had let Clark die.

Her dad had followed Lois, and Chloe had ignored him as he'd sat and started talking. He'd told her about the demon that had tracked him down and slit his throat—_see, honey_—as revenge for all the trouble she'd been causing with Lucifer's plans.

_Feeling guilty?_

"Yes," Chloe mumbled, not caring that she was talking to the voice in her head. It was better than listening to the murdered form of her father—who'd vanished once her Clark-conscience had started talking again.

_Good._

"Good," she echoed.

_So now that you've doomed the planet, what are you going to do next?_

"Save it."

_You really are nuts._

"I know."

_Can I let you in a secret? You're going to fail._

"No—"

_Yes. You couldn't save me. You won't save the Winchesters. You never have._

"Just stop!" Chloe yelled, listening to her voice echo around the empty Watchtower. Silence answered her and she waited a beat to test its permanence. "Clark?" she asked, when her head stayed quiet.

Nothing.

Her Clark-conscience was gone.

_Clark._ was gone.

The world faced the Apocalypse, and one of its strongest heroes was dead. Her best friend was dead.

"And it's all my fault."

Tears she'd denied for weeks welled up and fell unchecked. She dropped her head and the tears splashed on her desk. Clark was dead. He wasn't coming back. She hadn't helped him stop Doomsday the first time around, and she'd failed to save him the second time. She'd gone to stop Sam from breaking the final Seal, but had failed that too.

She wasn't fast enough. She wasn't strong enough. She couldn't even tell when something was a manifestation of her own screwed up mind.

It had all been in her head, but that didn't make it any less true.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Whether in response or just bad timing, her phone went off. The ringtone cut through her tears like cold water. She swallowed the last strains of emotion and answered, not surprised to hear Sam's voice on the other end.

"Are you okay?"

"Been better," she admitted, deciding it was a miracle she sounded only half as broken as she felt. She heard the rumble of the Impala's engine in the background. "You?"

"Fine," Sam assured, with as much truth in his tone as she'd had in hers. "We finished the hunt. It was a wraith."

Chloe tried to remember anything she knew on wraiths. "And what's a wraith's MO?" she asked, coming up with nothing.

"It feeds on brain juices. And its favorite flavor is crazy."

"Hence the nuthouse."

"Hence the nuthouse," Sam agreed. "It also manipulates humans—boosts their crazy with just a touch."

Chloe remembered the perky nurse's lingering touch and frowned. "Well that would explain the hallucinations."

Sam didn't sound surprised when he agreed. "You can officially plead temporary insanity."

She looked down at the tear drops on her desk and frowned, suddenly grateful no one had been around to see her break. "Luckily the only one around to witness my dive off the deep end was my computer. I think it'll keep my secret."

She heard Dean's voice in the background followed by shuffling as the phone was moved. "We're on our way back," Dean said, once the phone settled. His tone sounded just as stressed as Sam's. Temporary insanity wasn't easy. She could only imagine the kind of ghosts the Winchesters' trip down the rabbit hole had produced

"I'll be at Watchtower until Clark's funeral at four," Chloe responded, ignoring the way she had to force out the word _funeral_.

Dean paused before talking again. "Do you want us to come?"

It should have been an unnecessary question, but something in Dean's tone told her he wasn't sure of the answer anymore. She swallowed her welling emotions as her grip on the phone tightened. "Please."

* * *

_Earlier…_

The funeral was massive. For a hero who'd only been on the streets for a year, the Blur had managed to gain acceptance and love from most of the citizens in Metropolis. And it seemed as if all those fans were in attendance as the fallen hero was laid to rest.

Crowds of people in black stood around the newly erected headstone. Some in tears. Some in silent disbelief.

At the back of the crowd, Chloe stood with her head bowed and eyes closed. A hand was tucked inside her coat, buried deep and wrapped around a piece of jewelry only recently discovered after a desperate search through Watchtower. Words were being spoken about the greatness of the hero, but she wasn't listening. She was planning. She knew more than the speech could say, anyway.

She'd been there when the hero had died. She'd watched him give his life to save the world.

Hands squeezed her shoulders, and she stepped back, fitting herself between the solid frames behind her. The brothers stood at either side of her, offering support the only way they could. It should have been comforting, but it didn't help. Not at the moment, at least.

The Blur was dead, but so was Clark. She wasn't mourning the hero.

She was mourning the man.

The world would never truly know what they'd lost.

The speech continued, tears still fell, and tucked inside Chloe's hand sat a powerful gold ring.

She hadn't saved Clark, but maybe…

* * *

_Now…_

Compared to the funeral for his hero-double, Clark's funeral was a small affair. Around his coffin stood his mother, a handful of out-of-costume superheroes, the reporter he'd only started to accept as his future, and the woman who'd been his best friend even before she'd learned of his alien heritage.

They stood with wet eyes. Some with wet cheeks.

Heads bowed as the priest started a prayer. Behind the small group, two newcomers moved to join them. They didn't say a word, but they nodded at the loaded look from the blonde archer.

As the prayer continued, they moved to stand beside the small blonde. She stood at the back of the group, her head down and eyes closed just as she'd stood at the first funeral. Her head came up, when they reached her side, but she didn't look at them, her gaze focused on failures only she could see.

Even as a hand wrapped around hers and another settled on her shoulder, her gaze stayed where it was. She had support now. She had permission to fall against it and break, but she wasn't going to.

The world was ending. The only way to save it was to move on and keep going.

_"Exactly. That's exactly what you're going to do. You're going to take all that crap and you're going to bury it. You're going to forget about it, because that's how we keep going. That's how we don't end up like Martin. …Are you with me? Come on man, are you with me?"_

"I'm with you."

"Good."

To Be Continued…

* * *

**A/N:** Not that updates have been all that regular anyway, but the delay between updates will probably be even more significant now that school has started and my reading list has grown to epic proportions. It's not a hiatus, but it is a lengthening of the original deadline I'd set for myself. Sorry. :/


	71. Strange Behavior

_Before…_

Even as a hand wrapped around hers and another settled on her shoulder, her gaze stayed where it was. She had support now. She had permission to fall against it and break, but she wasn't going to.

The world was ending. The only way to save it was to move on and keep going.

_"Exactly. That's exactly what you're going to do. You're going to take all that crap and you're going to bury it. You're going to forget about it, because that's how we keep going. That's how we don't end up like Martin. …Are you with me? Come on man, are you with me?"_

_"I'm with you."_

_"Good."

* * *

_

_Now…_

He'd found him. He couldn't believe he'd actually found him. Maybe some good _could_ come out of working at the lame burger joint, wearing the lame costume complete with a lame hat.

He'd found Dean Winchester.

The guy demons were after—were willing to pay _big_ for—was sitting across the restaurant from him. He sat with two others, the guy who had ordered the mildly disturbing salad shaker and a hot blonde chick. The blonde and Mr. Salad Shaker sat on the same side of the table, reading over something on a laptop as Dean started in on his food.

Gary wouldn't call himself an _expert_, exactly, but he'd been around long enough to know when a couple was in to each other—he'd seen movies—and the pair with Dean were definitely a couple. It was pretty obvious. The guy was talking about something on the laptop, but the girl wasn't watching the laptop. She was watching the guy. And the smile she was giving him…

Yeah, pretty obvious.

But more importantly, he'd found Dean Winchester, and all he had left to do was kill him and the demons would reward him. First, though, he had to get closer to the demons' most wanted. And to do that, he had to be someone besides Gary Frankel.

He had to be Dean's salad-loving friend.

Piece of cake.

* * *

Considering the Devil was on the Earth, trying his hardest to bring on the end of the world, Sam knew they didn't have time to work on a haunted house. If it weren't for the fact that the woman being haunted had a connection to their family, he doubted they would have even stopped in town.

Still, a haunting was easy. A haunting, where the hardest part was locating the bones and setting them on fire, was probably the closest thing to time off they were going to get in a long time.

And for Chloe's sake alone, Sam was going to be grateful. Not much time had passed between Clark's funeral and their drive to Housatonic, Massachusetts, and Sam was still bracing for the fallout.

Aside from a few sudden tears, though, Chloe hadn't said a word about her dead friend. As soon as they'd left Smallville, her focus had returned to the Apocalypse as if she'd never been distracted from the fight. It was the kind of focus they all needed if they were going to beat the Devil, but Sam wanted more for Chloe. He wanted her to be able to grieve without feeling guilty she wasn't focused enough on saving the planet.

Too bad he rarely got what he wanted.

Pursing his lips, he pushed his thoughts aside and stood as a knock echoed from the connecting motel room. Self-pity wasn't going to help Chloe grieve. He knew that much—even if he didn't know what _would_ help.

"Hey Chloe," he greeted, after he unlocked and opened the door between his motel room and hers. Only a few weeks earlier, he'd been sure Chloe and Dean's new level in their relationship would mean he'd be getting his own motel room. So far, Chloe had proven him wrong. She still booked her own room, spending the nights with a wall between her and Dean.

As much as Sam hated to think about his brother's sex life—especially when it involved Chloe—he hoped the sudden lack of sex would spur his brother to do something to help Chloe deal with her loss. Then again, while Dean could be too driven by sex sometimes, Sam also knew how well his brother dealt with emotions, especially when it came to grief.

_You're going to take all that crap and you're going to bury it._

It would take more than a stall in the bedroom to get Dean to talk about feelings.

"Care to share your thoughts with the class?" Chloe asked lightly, cutting through Sam's internal musings. She looked up at him curiously, but he saw a hesitation in her eyes. She wasn't sure she wanted to know what he was thinking about.

"It's nothing," Sam assured. He turned to his brother who was sitting at the other end of the room. "Ready to go track down a dead witch?"

Dean scooted off the edge of his bed and stood. "Yeah, research. My favorite."

Sam smirked, shaking his head. He glanced down at Chloe, expecting to see similar fond amusement in her eyes, but she was just studying them. "We're going to split up?" she asked, confirming the plans they'd already gone over.

Sam nodded. "It'll go faster to cover more ground."

"And I'm all for a plan that makes the research go faster," Dean added, slipping on his coat and grabbing his car keys.

Chloe's face stayed serious. "Be careful," she said simply.

Dean opened his mouth—no doubt, to assure her that research had never killed anyone—but Sam cut him off. "We will be," he said then guided the duo out the door. The sooner they got the research over, the sooner they could finish the hunt and return to their regularly scheduled Apocalypse.

* * *

His brother was a grown man. He could handle himself in any situation. Sometimes, though, Dean had a hard time remembering that—especially when Sam was late meeting back up at the motel.

"And he's not answering his phone," he grumbled, shaking his cell phone in Chloe's direction. "What's the point in having the damn thing if he's not going to use it?"

Chloe shrugged as she watched him pace the room. "We could track it," she offered. Despite her nonchalant posture and tone, Dean knew she was growing worried too. Her eyes were tense, betraying her true frame of mind.

_Be careful._ Somehow, he doubted being late was what she had been worried about when she'd given him and Sam the gentle order. In fact _be careful_ had been an all too common order for the past few weeks. And he knew her repeat vocabulary wasn't due to her sudden lack of faith in their skills as hunters.

Sam probably thought he hadn't noticed Chloe's new level of worry, but Dean wasn't _that_ dense. Of course, that didn't mean he was going to bring it up to Chloe. He was the last one to dish out advice on grieving.

"Maybe," Dean said in response to her offer, and then shook his head. "No, we'll wait. I'll just give him hell when he gets here."

Chloe's mouth actually twitched into a small smile. "Such a good big brother," she mused.

"Damn straight."

As Chloe's smile grew to something more solid, the door opened and their wayward partner walked in. "Hey guys," he said as he moved into the room.

Dean frowned. "_Hey guys_?" he repeated. "Dude, where have you been? We've been calling for hours."

Sam shrugged then managed to look sheepish. "Sorry, I lost track of time." He held up a paper bag gripped in his hand. "I grabbed some food, though. Bacon burger turbo, large chili-cheese fry, and chicken patty melt with onion rings," he said, listing the food inside the paper bag. He set the bag on the table in front of him and pulled off his jacket. "Am I right?"

Dean nodded as Chloe studied Sam then the food on the table, giving them both a thorough once-over as if searching for clues to a puzzle only she could see. Finally she pursed her lips and grabbed the bag of food. "Just FYI, I don't mind a little variety in my meals."

Sam chuckled, tossing his jacket over the back of a chair and moving to Chloe's side. "Sure, of course." He gestured over his shoulder towards the door he'd just entered through. "Should I go get you something else?"

Chloe shook her head, pulling out her sandwich and handing him the rest of the bag. "No. I'm good."

"Are you sure?" Sam asked, suddenly looking uncertain. His hand reached for his recently discarded jacket. "I could..."

"It's fine," Chloe cut in, shooting him a curious look then turning it on Dean. "I think I can handle another patty melt today."

"Alright." Sam nodded. "Okay."

Dean just shook his head. He knew his brother was treading lightly around Chloe, but sometimes he went a little overboard.

* * *

Before facing the Devil, her sleeping habits had centered more on a caffeine intake than time actually spent asleep. After the Devil, that pattern had only increased to the point where a full-night's sleep was a rare enough occurrence that she knew to take full advantage of it when it happened. The motels were rarely high-quality and often-times came complete with stains on the carpet or in the bathroom she didn't dare investigate, but she'd learned quickly to appreciate the relative comfort of a mattress, pillow, and threadbare sheets.

Stopping the Apocalypse didn't come with all the comforts of home, but it came with enough for her to pretend otherwise.

When she woke up the next morning, she almost smiled. The room was clean, the bed was even cleaner, and she'd managed to sleep without past failures plaguing her dreams. It wasn't until she realized her cell phone was missing that she decided her day wasn't going to continue as smoothly as her night had.

She finished getting ready with a speed that came from anger and worry. Her cell phone was missing, but not the Queen-issued phone she kept hidden for emergencies. The phone she had given Sam the number to when they'd lived together—_just in case_.

The phone that was currently clutched in her hand with a worrying message recorded on it.

_So, this is gonna sound crazy—really crazy—but…_

She knocked once on the door between the two motel rooms then walked inside without waiting for a response. Dean looked up from tying his boots, saw her expression, and frowned. She cut off anything he might say with a look, turning instead to Sam.

The younger Winchester smiled at her, eyes trailing over her frame in a way they never had before. "You're looking good, Chloe," he drawled.

Behind him, Dean's eyebrows rose almost comically and his mouth opened, but he didn't say a word just watched them with clear surprise in his expression.

"Uh, thanks, Sam."

The phone message had been a hint to trouble. Sam's compliment was proof of it. _I think I'm in the wrong body._

Chloe willed Dean to stay silent a moment longer as she kept her attention on Sam—or the thing wearing Sam. "I saw a coffee shop down the street. Can you go grab us some?" she asked, going with the hope that whatever was wearing Sam wanted to keep up the façade for a while longer.

Sam looked nervous for a moment then nodded. "Sure. No problem." He slipped on his jacket and moved to the door. "Be right back," he said then he was gone, uncertainty still etched on his face.

He had no idea what kind of coffee to order.

As soon as the door shut, Chloe moved to the window, checking to make sure Sam had left. Satisfied, she turned back to Dean. "Something's wrong with your brother," she said, without preamble.

Dean cocked an eyebrow. "How so?"

Chloe shook her head, annoyed. He was being dense on purpose. They both knew it. "You can't honestly tell me you haven't noticed his new behavior," she stated, gesturing in the direction Sam had disappeared.

Dean tensed at her tone, standing suddenly. "His? Not really," he said. "Yours, however…"

"Don't make this about me," Chloe warned, defenses going up faster than she expected. She wasn't ready to talk about her. It was likely she'd never be ready to talk about her, but that wasn't important at the moment. "Something's wrong with your brother." She held out her phone, offering him proof. "I know you've noticed."

Dean looked ready to argue the subject, but she knew he wasn't one to discuss emotions. She was counting on that fact, hoping it would carry her through her grief. If Dean didn't push, she wouldn't break. She could pretend she was okay, until she _was_ okay.

With a sigh, he relented. "I had my suspicions." He gave her a knowing look. "And I'm guessing you have a theory."

She replayed the message on her phone and let him listen. It wasn't Sam's voice on the message. It sounded like a teenage boy—_I think I'm in the wrong body._—but that didn't mean it wasn't Sam.

_I could use a little help here._

Dean handed back the phone with a shake of his head. "That's nuts."

"You don't believe him?"

"No," Dean argued. "No, I believe him. But that doesn't mean it isn't nuts."

Chloe offered him a tight smile. "Welcome to your life, Dean Winchester."

* * *

Considering he'd been unconscious for the first spell, Sam was surprised by how simple the reversal spell seemed. He, of all people, knew better than to underestimate supernatural power, but some things still caught him off guard. He'd been in the body of a teenager, while his own body had been possessed by said teenager. Even in his line of work, that was a strange situation.

"You're lucky you're seventeen," Chloe told Gary once everyone was back in their appropriate bodies. She stood in front of the teenager with a frown that had him flinching with regret.

"Why?" he asked carefully.

Behind Chloe, Dean answered. "Because if you were older, you'd be dead. We would kill you."

"Kill me?" Gary repeated, looking from Dean to Chloe and purposely avoiding Sam's face. Sam couldn't bring himself to care.

"Messing with witchcraft, talking to _demons_," Chloe listed then pointed to Sam and Dean. "Threatening their lives. Those aren't hobbies of someone who's on our ally list."

Gary visibly swallowed. "What if I said I was sorry?"

"Behave yourself," Dean bargained. "Or we'll be back."

"And we'll be keeping that," Sam added, gesturing to the book of witchcraft Gary had used to switch their bodies.

Gary nodded quickly. "Right, take it. That's fine."

Chloe stepped closer to the teenager, commanding his attention again. "And stop talking to demons. No one's life is hard enough that they need to deal with the Devil. Trust me. If you have a problem, deal with it yourself. You start down that road and it's just going to turn deadly."

Sam shifted when her words hit close to home. He was the poster boy for deals with the Devil. If anyone knew the outcome it was him. They weren't in the middle of the Apocalypse for nothing.

Gary nodded again then took a step back. "Can I…can I go now? My parents are probably angry I'm late for dinner."

He was asking all three of them, but his gaze was focused on Chloe. When she nodded, he turned on his heel and hurried out of the motel room.

Sam watched him go and shook his head. The kid had been messing with evil, but he was just a kid. He hadn't had any evil intentions. Then again, it was usually those without the evil intentions that ended up destroying the lives of others.

Dean hit his shoulder suddenly. "Quit thinking so loud, Sammy. It's depressing."

Sam ignored his comment, watching Chloe scoop up Gary's spell book and move to her motel room. "I'm going to see about disposing this thing," she said.

"Can't we just burn it?" Dean asked, sounding disappointed at an alternative.

She shook her head. "Gary said this thing was protected, and the symbols inside say the same thing. There's probably a spell to break the protection." She shrugged. "Maybe you can burn it once I remove the protection spell."

Dean smiled. "Sweet talker."

Chloe didn't return the smile, just turned and walked out.

* * *

"We should find a Laundromat in the next town," Dean decided as he pulled out clothes from his duffel and tossed them into separate piles: wearable and ripe. He blinked in surprise as he pulled a shirt from the depths of his bag that was a number of sizes too small for him—which meant it _definitely_ wasn't Sam's. Amused, he turned and held it out to his brother. "Dude, keep your clothes out of my bag."

Sam looked up from his own duffel bag, frowning at the small blouse then wrinkling his nose in mild disgust. "You and Chloe sharing clothes now?" he asked lightly, before returning his attention to his previous task.

"That'd be…uncomfortable," Dean decided, pretending to hold the blouse up to his chest then setting it aside. For all he knew the simple piece of clothing had a specific setting for washing. He didn't want to be the one who ended up ruining Chloe's shirt by tossing it in with his load.

Sam closed his bag's zipper with a rough flourish and sat down next to it, watching his brother continue to sort. "So, how'd you know Gary wasn't me?"

Dean didn't look up, when he answered. "He complimented Chloe in front of me."

Sam's frown was audible. "I compliment Chloe," he argued, misunderstanding.

"Sure but he _complimented_ her. He had leering eyes and…" Dean gave a theatric shiver. "It was disturbing."

Sam blinked. "Oh…_oh_!" He sat back and smirked as Dean finished sorting. "Guess I should be grateful you're the jealous type."

"Funny," he deadpanned, tossing a bundled up pair of dirty socks at his face. Sam caught them easily and tossed them back, making a show of wiping his hand on his jeans. "I think Chloe had it figured out from the beginning, though. Your message on her phone just confirmed her suspicions."

Sam made a surprised noise. "Huh, I didn't think she'd notice."

Dean matched his expression, but for a different reason. "You worry about how much Chloe notices you?"

"No," Sam countered, annoyed. "I meant, she's been so driven lately…I just didn't think a change in personality would really show up on her radar."

"Driven," Dean repeated. "That's a word for it."

"So you've noticed?" Sam asked, and Dean actually felt a little offended.

"Of course I noticed," he stated, repacking his duffel as he spoke, dirty clothes on one end, clean on the other. "I notice everything about Chloe." His tone dared Sam to argue against his slight exaggeration.

"So, do think we should talk to her about it?" Sam asked instead.

Dean shoved the last piece of clothing in place, shut his bag roughly, and then shook his head. "No. I don't."

* * *

Sam waited two days before broaching the subject again. Two uneventful days where they struggled to keep a foothold on the Apocalypse and Chloe tried her hardest to keep her walls from cracking.

He'd turned to her on his own, asking about her wellbeing and showing his concern even when she insisted she was _fine_, but somehow he knew it wasn't enough. Chloe's walls were up too high for his willing shoulder to break.

He didn't expect her to break down and cry. Chloe wasn't the sobbing type. He just wanted her to stop with the act. It felt like Dean three years earlier, hiding his grief over their dad. Only, where Dean grew angry in lieu of sad, Chloe just shut down. Aside from a few smiles and small jokes, she was all focus and no emotions.

"You're wrong, you know," he stated as he and Dean tossed their bags on their respective beds. Their motel stops were fewer and further between than they had ever been, only stopping when they were all past the point of driving safely or when they thought they had an Apocalypse-related lead. For that night, it was the former. They'd pushed themselves the last two days, chasing a lead that had ended without warning.

Some part of his brain told him to not push the subject. If they were tired enough to stop driving, they were too tired to handle a lesson on grief. But he'd grown used to ignoring certain parts of his brain when he wanted.

"Okay," Dean said easily. "'Bout what?"

"About what you said back at the psych ward. About burying it." Sam moved as he spoke, using his hands to emphasize his point. "Burying it isn't going to do anything but build something up. You bury it and it's going to explode. Things like that don't stay buried."

"Things like what, Sam?" Dean demanded, his tone gaining the edge it usually got when Sam pushed at his protective wall. "Things like guilt over the Apocalypse? Things like fear over the end of the world?"

Dean's words didn't surprise him. Whether he admitted to it or not, Sam knew Dean felt guilt and fear towards the Apocalypse. He wouldn't be human if he didn't. "Things like grief," he said, looking deliberately in the direction of Chloe's motel room.

Dean seemed to deflate a little at Sam's statement, following his gaze then turning back to his brother. "You aren't going to let this go, are you?"

Sam shook his head. "I would, if I thought she was going to be okay."

"But she's not going to be."

It was a statement more than a question, but Sam answered anyway. "No. She's not."

Dean ran a hand over his face, looking just as uncomfortable as Sam had expected him to. But there was understanding in his eyes. He didn't like the subject, yet he understood it. He knew what Sam was talking about, and he agreed. "I'll talk to her later," he said finally.

"Dean," Sam warned, knowing the moment was slipping away.

"Later, Sam," Dean insisted then made a face. "And why am I talking to her anyway? You're the sensitive one."

Sam resisted the urge to laugh at that. Somehow he didn't think that role fit him anymore. "She's not going to open up to me."

Dean looked skeptical. "Why not?"

_Because she's not in love with me._ Sam shrugged, masking his thoughts. That was a discussion for another time. "Just trust me, she's not."

"Things can never be simple, can they?"

"Not in this life."

Dean frowned. "Or probably the next."

* * *

"You're hurt."

"I'm fine."

Chloe huffed, reaching towards Dean's injury without permission. Just as her hand began to glow with power, he pulled away, leveling her with an annoyed frown. "Don't," he argued. "I'm fine."

"You're bleeding and bruised. You aren't fine." Why did he insist on being stubborn? She could heal him. Of course, he'd been nothing but stubborn for the whole hunt. Sometimes she wasn't sure which she found more irritating: their lack of Apocalypse leads or the moments of stress that came with their side-hunts.

It had been almost a week since Sam had switched bodies with a teenage witch-in-training, and just as long since Dean's attitude towards Chloe had grown to something she couldn't quite name. He was on edge around her, something unspoken growing in his eyes and in his stance.

Dean stayed out of her reach, shaking his head slowly. "I need stitches and some painkillers. I don't need you hurting yourself for my sake."

"It's only temporary," Chloe insisted, wishing Sam was there to side with her. Unfortunately, the younger Winchester was back at the scene of their hunt making sure the victim made it home safely.

Dean remained unconvinced. "So is this." As if to prove his point, he moved past her to the bathroom, grabbing the med kit on his way. She caught an involuntary flinch as his arm moved away from tender ribs, and her worry grew to a level of irritation.

She followed him into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her and leaning against, blocking his only exit. "You shouldn't have gotten hurt," she said almost conversationally, sensing the tension in Dean's shoulders.

"How do you figure?" he asked just as easily, he eyes stationed on the med kit and one of the gashes along his forearm.

She reached forward, but rested her hand on the counter instead of his wound as she wanted to heal. "The poltergeist was using me as a human target. You only got hit because you got in the way."

Dean gave her a look—_Yeah, and?_ "If you're going to tell me I shouldn't have gotten in the way, you can save it. You know that's not how it works." He turned on the tap and began wiping his arm as he continued. "If it had been Sam in the way, I would have done the same thing. And I know if either of us had been the one facing down the poltergeist's projectiles, you would have been just as eager to get in the line of fire."

"Fine," Chloe relented. "But at least let me heal you."

"No." His tone didn't rise, but his shoulders tensed as she got closer, ready to flinch away if she reached for him.

Chloe pounded a fist on the counter. "Why not?" she demanded. "You got hurt protecting _me_. I can heal you. Let me heal you." _Please_—but she wasn't ready beg.

"Because," Dean said simply. "That's not how it works." His gaze never met hers as he began bandaging his injury. "I don't need you to heal me."

"And I don't need you to save me," Chloe countered. "It's time _I_ saved someone for a change."

Dean looked up at that, and she caught something in his gaze she wasn't ready to see.  
It was understanding, but not about their current fight. "Chloe…" he started, and she shook her head, stepping back before he could continue.

She wasn't ready.

"Forget it," she said quickly, opening the door and stepping through. "You're right. You can handle it without me."

"Chloe," Dean called as she walked away, his footsteps announcing his move to the bathroom doorway.

She didn't look back as she walked out, swallowing down guilt and tears and the urge to _stop running_. She _wasn't_ ready.

"Good night, Dean."

* * *

Sam woke to the sound of a door opening. It was at the wrong end of the motel room to be Dean in the bathroom, and his hand moved under his pillow in anticipation. Poltergeist hunts tended to put him on edge even after destroying the spirit. There was always the chance the spirit had survived and would seek revenge. After a tense moment, though, recognition settled over his senses, easing his anxiety down from threat to ally.

He lay still, only catching glimpses of the newcomer as her form shifted in and out of the faint moonlight streaming in from a crack between the curtains. If she knew he was awake, she didn't acknowledge it. Her attention was on the bed next to him.

Sam didn't have to see his brother's face to know he was awake too. Waking up to a door opening in the middle of the night was a necessary skill in their line of work. Most times, the sudden intrusion wasn't a friend.

As he watched, his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting and it became easier to pick out Chloe's form from the darkness. She paused at one side of Dean's bed, the side opposite of where he was laying. Sam couldn't make out her face, and he couldn't even begin to guess her expression as she stood, no doubt, watching the dark form that made up Dean.

It only took a few seconds before Dean shifted and the blankets near Chloe were pulled back in an invitation. In the quiet of the room, Sam heard Chloe's grateful sigh then the faint squeak of springs as she climbed in next to Dean.

By then, his brother was talking, his voice a hushed tone meant for Chloe's ears alone, and Sam turned away to offer them what privacy he could. As he closed his eyes again, he caught a tearful whisper from Chloe followed quickly by Dean as he answered in his deep rumble.

_She's not going to open up to me._

_Why not?_

_Because she's not in love with me._

Dean's voice continued and Sam smiled into his pillow. Sometimes, it felt good being right.

"…It's okay, Chloe. I'm here. I've got you…"

To Be Continued…


	72. Merging Generations

_Before…_

It only took a few seconds before Dean shifted and the blankets near Chloe were pulled back in an invitation. In the quiet of the room, Sam heard Chloe's grateful sigh then the faint squeak of springs as she climbed in next to Dean.

By then, his brother was talking, his voice a hushed tone meant for Chloe's ears alone, and Sam turned away to offer them what privacy he could. As he closed his eyes again, he caught a tearful whisper from Chloe followed quickly by Dean as he answered in his deep rumble.

_She's not going to open up to me._

_Why not?_

_Because she's not in love with me._

Dean's voice continued and Sam smiled into his pillow. Sometimes, it felt good being right.

"…It's okay, Chloe. I'm here. I've got you…"

* * *

_Now…_

Dean sat against his headboard, shifting to get comfortable and to give the body tucked against him more room. Chloe made a noise of appreciation and settled closer, dropping her head just below his collarbone.

"The guy could stop bullets with his bare hands, but talking to a female nearly gave him a stroke," Chloe continued with a bemused tone. She nudged one shoulder up in a half shrug. "I guess it's what made him human. He had these powers, but he was still as unskilled socially as the rest of us."

Dean smirked at the image her words created. "I gotta admit, I'm relieved to hear that."

"Yeah?"

"Of course. I'd have had a real reason to be jealous of the guy if he'd had super powers _and_ been great with women," Dean joked, relieved to be able to do so. Something in Chloe had finally broken loose the night before, leaving him with the woman he remembered from before Clark's death. The woman who could grieve for her lost friend, but still find joy in his memory instead of pretending he'd never existed in the first place.

Chloe chuckled softly. "Guess I shouldn't tell you I had a crush on him in high school."

Dean remembered the affection Chloe had shown Clark before his death. Then he remembered the way she'd turned to him the night before, opening herself up and trusting him to hold her together. She'd cared for Clark but…"I'm not worried," he decided.

"Good," Chloe said, resting a warm hand against his ribs.

He pulled her closer, dropping his cheek onto her head. "It's too bad he couldn't fly. That would have been pretty awesome."

"Agreed."

Before the conversation could continue, Sam walked into the motel room, his gaze falling instantly to the two of them in bed. He shook his head in relief, noticing their fully-clothed forms. "Close call," he muttered, tossing his jacket the closest surface and moving to their side of the room.

"Don't worry Sammy, we'll lock the door if we don't want to be disturbed," Dean assured and smiled when his brother grimaced. There were fringe benefits to a physical relationship with Chloe.

"Thanks," Sam said wryly then held out the newspaper in his hand, his face falling serious. "Chloe, you're going to want to see this." He flipped the paper so she could see the bottom of the Front Page and pointed to a headline tucked into the corner. It wasn't large, but they were in Virginia far away from the town that likely had a full Front Page spread on the same topic.

_The Blur is Back?_

"It's a joke," Chloe decided almost instantly. She moved away from Dean and scooted off the bed, the newspaper clutched in her grip. "It's some copycat metahuman trying to use Clark's name, and I'm going to figure out who it is."

"Guess we're going to Metropolis," Dean said, following her off the bed.

She looked back, a statement in her eyes he knew too well, and he cut her off. "We're going, Chloe."

"We can search for ways to stop the Apocalypse in Metropolis just as easily as we can on the road," Sam agreed, already moving to grab his mostly-packed duffel. "You have better Internet access at Watchtower than at any motel I've been to, anyway."

Chloe smiled at that, even as her eyes remained strained with irritation. "Thanks guys."

They just nodded in response, watching her move to her own room to pack up and leave. Dean saw the same determination settle in her eyes that he'd seen the last few weeks since Clark's death. It was almost upsetting to see again, knowing the hard-walls and detached behavior that would follow—but she had smiled too.

There was hope.

* * *

He found her only a few days after rumor of the Blur's return had spread beyond the Metropolis city limits. She was harder to find than he'd expected. She was the hidden member of the superhero team. The one behind the scenes with the computer connections. Her use of technology should have made her easy to find. Unfortunately there was one thing she wasn't—stationary.

Sylvester watched Chloe walk from a coffee shop to an unknown location down the block. He had to move quickly and carefully. She may be the team member behind the computer, but he'd learned enough about her to know better than to underestimate her. While most heroes had only two identities, Chloe seemed to posses three: the one she let the public see, the one she used to aid her superheroes, and the one Sylvester had a hard time learning about through technological breadcrumbs.

Using his staff like a switch, he cut the power to the block around her, knowing it would catch her attention. Startled, the woman spun in place, searching for the source of disturbance. As she searched, her hand went to the inside of her jacket, and Sylvester knew his window of opportunity was shrinking.

His staff lit, revealing his place a story above her. She looked up with shock and took a step back, but her hand stayed tucked inside her jacket. When she didn't pull out the weapon she likely had stashed at her waist, he took it for permission and jumped down to meet her on level ground.

"Chloe Sullivan," he greeted.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Sylvester Pemberton. I'm here to both ask your help and offer mine in return," Sylvester said, watching her face carefully for signs of disbelief. The moment her disbelief turned to something stronger, he would know he'd lost her.

"Help with what?" she asked, still wary, but not completely uncertain.

Sylvester stepped closer, testing her trust. "Your team recently lost one of its members while mine has been disbanded for too long. I think it's time the two of them joined together and filled the void that was created with the Blur's passing."

"My team?" Chloe repeated, confusion in her tone and on her face, but Sylvester knew it was an act. His information was accurate.

"You're the one they call Watchtower," he said and continued as her brow creased with more confusion. "Technology today makes hiding a lot harder. Your team has done well hiding from the general public, but from someone like me it becomes trickier." He held out a hand as if presenting himself. "I know all about secret identities."

Chloe frowned, but her uncertainty was wavering. "You're telling me you're one of those masked heroes?" she asked, not giving anything away with her question.

"And a friend," he added gently, only to go on alert as the shadows next to them suddenly separated from the wall and moved forward.

"Friends don't let friends stand unguarded in a dark alley," one of the shadows-turned-men stated. He held a gun between his hands and aimed at Sylvester's chest as he shifted closer. The other man was silent as he moved to Chloe's side, a gun held in his hands as well. Sylvester was willing to bet the two men were part of Chloe's third identity. They certainly weren't the type of men to wear a costume to stop a criminal.

Sylvester didn't say a word, but he didn't back down either. He'd seen Chloe's face before her backup had arrived. He knew where he stood.

"It's okay," Chloe assured, resting a hand over the gun closest to her and directing it to lower. "Let him talk."

* * *

Victor shook his head as he looked from the piles of information on Chloe's desk to the number of windows crowding the screen in front of him. "What's Sylvester's favorite cereal?" he joked, offering Chloe an impressed smile.

She'd called the team together after an encounter with a man who claimed to be a hero like them. He'd given them information on his disbanded team, but Chloe had wanted more. Judging from the amount of information in front of her, Victor would guess she'd found enough.

"According to government records, Sylvester and his team are criminals," Chloe said, bringing a few police reports forward on the screen.

"Well, who do we believe?" AC asked. "The police reports or the man with the shiny staff?"

"No offense to this city's finest, but the police don't always have all the information," Dean said. He and his brother stood at the edges of the group that was gathered around Chloe's desk, but their presence didn't go unnoticed–even without them offering their unprompted opinion.

It was hard not to notice tall men with guns.

Oliver nodded, holding out a folder on Abigail Hunkel then dropping it back on the desk. "Somehow I doubt Abigail is the criminal mastermind the police had hoped to make her out to be."

"Something doesn't fit with all these arrests," John agreed. "If they were truly criminals, why were they all released due to lack of evidence? There should have been something to convict at least a portion of them."

"They weren't criminals," Chloe stated unnecessarily. She was just saying what the rest of the group had already silently agreed on. "But that doesn't mean we should trust them."

"No?" Victor asked. "What if Sylvester was telling the truth?"

"With the big guy gone we could use some more muscle," Bart said, continuing off of Victor's question. "Especially now that we've got a wannabe Blur walking the streets."

Chloe stiffened at the mention of Clark—as they all tended to do—but her tone was neutral when she spoke. "It's not my call."

Victor was surprised by how much truth there was in her statement. There had been a time when Watchtower would have been the one with the plan and the final vote. Then again, there had been a time when she would have been the first to know about the Blur imposter—instead of the last.

When Oliver had shown the team their new headquarters, they had all assumed Chloe would move in and feel right at home. They hadn't counted on her other team becoming a bigger priority.

There was something more to her team-up with the Winchesters than just the ghosts and ghouls she mentioned. Whether that something had to do with the Winchesters specifically or a threat she wasn't willing to fill them in on, Victor hadn't figured that out yet. All he knew was that Chloe was pulling back from her place on the team.

Slowly, but surely, she was allowing her position as Watchtower to be replaced by the building with the same name. Everyone on the team had access to the computers and technology packed inside the tower. While Chloe was the most skilled at manipulating their uses to make missions simpler, the team wasn't helpless without her.

Victor had a feeling that was one reality they were going to have to face sooner rather than later.

Chloe was Watchtower, but she was also a hunter. As her time in Metropolis grew more infrequent, it became obvious which role she felt more compelled to fill.

"I knew him," Dinah said suddenly, cutting into Victor's musings. She set down the file she had been studying and pointed to the picture attached. It was a photo of the professional boxer, Ted Grant. "We can trust them."

* * *

After Sylvester's push to bring the team back together, Carter had braced himself for a dysfunctional reunion with whatever remaining teammates Sylvester could find. When he found the young trio in the middle of his museum, he realized his assumption had been a little off.

"Museum's closed," he said as he walked into the room the trio was studying. Behind him, Kent sat as he always did, cradling the Helmet of Nabu and mumbling some of the secrets the helmet whispered to him.

Responding to Carter's voice, the three newcomers turned and the female stepped forward. "Carter Hall?" she asked, not offering her hand but still offering a greeting. "My name is Chloe Sullivan. Your friend Sylvester Pemberton came to see me earlier about joining teams."

"He should have told you I wasn't interested," Carter said, willing his tone to dissuade the group. "I haven't spoken to Pemberton for years. That's not my life anymore."

"No?" Chloe pressed then gestured around the room to the mementoes from his team's past. "Then why do you live here, with all these memories?"

"Call me sentimental," Carter said dryly. "Now why are you here?"

Chloe frowned, seemingly catching some of Kent's mumblings as she looked behind Carter to his friend. "I'm here because Sylvester mentioned his old team and I decided we should meet," she said, returning her attention to Carter. "My teammates are out speaking to some other members of your team, trying to find out who wants to join Sylvester."

"Well you can keep my name off the list," Carter said then pointed to the door they had walked in through.

Pursing her lips, Chloe turned and walked away, her two bodyguards following behind. Before they reached the door, though, the taller of the two men turned and met Carter's gaze. His eyes soft as he spoke. "Hiding from the fight doesn't make it go away."

He offered no further explanation, and Carter didn't respond just watched with a frown as the trio walked out. Behind him, Kent's voice grew louder. "Never stops. The fight never stops. Always fighting. Always."

Carter dropped a hand on his shoulder as he passed him. "It's no longer our fight, my friend."

* * *

"This looks bigger than the last one. Whatever happened here was a big fight between two powerful dudes," AC said, examining the alley around them.

"Two Blurs?" Bart asked, lifting up a trashcan that had been crushed flat. He tossed the can aside and kept searching. "Maybe there is more than one imposter."

"Both with Boy Scout's strength?" AC asked, skeptical. He and Bart were on scene investigation while the rest of the team was split between tracking down the Blur imposters and looking into Sylvester's offer of teamwork. Considering the wreckage around him, AC's support for joining teams continued to grow. If Bart was right and there were two Blur impersonators around, they were going to need all the help they could get to shut them down.

"It's possible," Bart said. "Boy Scout didn't have the monopoly on super strength."

AC brushed a hand over a dented fire escape ladder. "If there are two Blur's out there, why are they fighting each other?" And how long was it going to be before more than an innocent trash can got caught in the crossfire?

Bart pantomimed holding a large belt around his waist. "Title possession."

* * *

Courtney followed Sylvester and Chloe inside the impressive room. It was bigger than she'd imagined and a lot more high-tech, definitely more impressive than the computer Carter had back at the JSA's old base. "Wow," she said once the doors shut behind her.

Chloe smiled at that. "I'm starting to see a pattern with that response." She pressed a few buttons on the keyboard in front of her then turned her attention to the large screen at one end of the room. "This is what we have so far. All three of these locations have had confirmed Blur sightings. The last two come complete with signs of struggle."

"Major struggle," Bart added.

Sylvester looked from the screen to Chloe. "What's the plan?" he asked, giving her control of the situation.

Courtney wasn't sure what Sylvester's complete plans had been concerning a team-up between the JSA and the Watchtower heroes, but for the moment she knew they were following the other team's lead. It was their case, their old friend who was being impersonated. She and Sylvester were just there to help.

She only hoped it was the start of a bigger partnership. The other members of the JSA were slowly being tracked down and invited to join. It was only a matter of time before most of the living JSA members were back in costume and back on the streets, protecting them alongside the younger generation. Despite what Carter believed, Courtney knew the other team members were more open to a return to costume.

Though, if they were going to be a full team again, they were going to need their old leader.

They were going to need Carter.

Chloe stepped back from her desk and nodded towards Oliver. "He's the man with the plan."

Oliver smiled at the title as he switched places with Chloe, taking over control of the computer. "The new Blur, or possibly Blur_s_ have all been spotted in a relatively small area of Metropolis. I say we split up and canvas the area. The more of us on the ground at once, the better chance we'll have of catching the imposters."

Courtney looked over the plan of the city Oliver had brought up on the screen. "It would be easier to cover if we had someone in the air," she pointed out, looking back at Sylvester.

Her mentor shook his head. "Carter said no, Courtney. We have to respect his wishes."

"He's the leader. He can't just _not_ join us," she argued.

Sylvester squeezed her shoulder, giving her a small smile. "Don't worry. If I know Carter, he'll come around."

"And in the mean time," Oliver said, offering them understanding looks. "We'll just have to use ground troops."

* * *

"Looks the same as the last," Dinah said as she brought the pictures up on the screen. After two days of watching the city, someone had finally spotted the Blur. Unfortunately, it was a late-night jogger that had seen him, not anyone on their team. "Impressive damage and clear signs of a fight between two super-strong beings," she listed, gesturing to a photo as she spoke.

She'd been the first one on the scene, and she still remembered the second of hesitation she'd had when surveying the area. It had had evidence of Clark's strength all over the mostly-deserted street. Clark was dead, though. She knew it just as well as the rest of her teammates did.

If there was Clark-sized damage in Metropolis it wasn't something to find hope in. It was something to worry about.

"Wait, go back," Sam instructed, moving closer to the screen. He and his brother were the only other people at Watchtower besides Chloe and Dinah. The rest of the team had returned to the streets to track down the illusive doubles.

Dinah did as instructed and Sam pointed to a spot in the corner of the last picture. "What does that look like to you?" he asked, his finger circling a puddle next to a damaged car.

"Like spilled motor oil," Dinah said, not understanding the interest Sam had. "There's a car right by it. Maybe it sprung a leak."

Dean shook his head. "That car would need more damage than a little fender-bender to be leaking motor oil."

"Exactly," Sam said then gestured for her to move one picture forward. "Now look." His finger trailed from the same puddle in the middle of the photo to the edge of the frame. "It's a trail of oil."

"Like a blood trail," Chloe said, clearly understanding what Sam had.

Dinah studied the trail, realization dawning. "You think one of the imposters is some sort of machine?"

"Or just part machine," Chloe agreed. "Like Vic."

"That would explain the super strength," Dean pointed out.

"Sure," Dinah agreed. "But that doesn't explain what could be strong enough to face off with a cyborg-Blur."

"I can think of a few things," Dean said darkly. Something in his tone told Dinah she didn't want to know what he was alluding to.

"Cass already checked," Chloe said, understanding his comment even when Dinah didn't. Who was Cass? "Whatever's going on here, it's not supernatural."

Sam's attention returned to the trail of oil. "It's mechanical."

As he spoke, a new window popped up on the screen announcing a video message from a teammate. Chloe accepted the message then frowned at the unfamiliar face on the screen. "Who—?"

"Hawkman," the man introduced in a curt tone. He moved the small web camera to show Sylvester standing beside him. The Star-Spangled Kid—_Man_—nodded, showing his trust in the newcomer.

"What do you have Hawkman?" Chloe asked.

The beaked man frowned. "Another Blur sighting. This brings the number of imposters up to three, if my counting is correct."

Dinah shared a look with Chloe, worry settling over her. Two was bad, but three? "How do you know it's not the same from before?"

"It came at the same time as a sighting across the city," Sylvester explained.

"We think we might be dealing with a cyborg," Chloe said, accepting the hero's word. "Take Skyman with you back to the last sighting and look for some evidence. We need to know what's strong enough to take on a cyborg-Blur."

Hawkman looked over at the masked man next to him. "Skyman?" he repeated, looking skeptical despite only his mouth being visible beneath the mask.

Sylvester smiled. "I decided it was time for a change. I'm not a kid anymore."

"No, but you're still wearing _stars-and-strips_ pajamas," Hawkman scoffed as he cut connection with Watchtower.

Dinah shook her head, catching Dean's smirk. "Hawkman is about as friendly as his civilian counter-part," he mused.

"At least Carter has joined the fight," his brother pointed out.

Dinah nodded in agreement. "We've got an eye in the sky now. Let's hope it's what we need."

"Let's hope there aren't any more Blur-clones," Chloe countered.

* * *

Logically, it should have been done the moment the imposter made himself known. Emotionally, none of them would ever be ready for it.

John stood in front of the grave that held the body of the young alien he'd sworn to protect. With three potential Blurs running around the city and few clues scattered around back alleys, it was time to look for answers at the source. Clark had died. John had watched it with his own eyes.

But there was still that uncertainty that sat in the back of his mind. Three Blurs all seemingly with Clark's powers was a big coincidence. Then again, the idea of one of those imposters being the real Blur was nearly impossible.

"I can start," the man next to him offered, holding up the shovel in his hand.

John looked up at Sam and shook his head. "It's okay. I was just thinking."

"About _what if_?" Sam guessed knowingly. The younger man had volunteered to help him with the digging because of his experience with graves, but John knew it was also because of his experience with the uncertainty that came with unearthing a grave. Especially the grave of someone he'd known.

John didn't answer. He didn't need to. Instead, he turned his attention to the ground in front of him. "I'm sorry," he whispered as he lowered his shovel into the dirt above Clark's coffin.

As he leaned to scoop up the earth and set it aside, Sam tensed next to him, suddenly on edge. They weren't alone.

Taking his cue, a man appeared from behind the Blur's headstone. The newcomer held what appeared to be a bowling bag close to his chest and mumbled to himself as he walked closer. The hand Sam had dropped to the back of his pants moved back around weaponless, but John knew it would take only a flinch for Winchester to have the weapon in his hands.

John studied the newcomer. Probably a homeless man, but there was something to the way he was studying the ground beneath him that made the Martian pause. "Can I help you?" he asked. It was late. No one was supposed to be around. They didn't need an audience to watch them unearth Clark's coffin.

Ignoring the question, the man moved until he stood directly above Clark's grave then shook his head. "Not gone. Not here. Nothing is here." The man clutched the bag tighter. "Only memories."

Sam shared a look with John and took a step closer to the man. "Can I help you, sir?" he asked as if speaking to a child.

The man looked up at him, clarity showing in his eyes despite his ramblings. "Nabu whispers. Always whispers. Nabu says the ground is empty."

Sam hesitated. "Nabu?" he asked carefully.

Before he could receive an answer, there was a rush of wind and Hawkman stood at the man's side. "Kent, what are you doing here?"

"You know this man?"

Hawkman nodded. "Kent Nelson. An old friend." _Friend_ said with an emphasis that John caught easily. Kent was an old member of the JSA.

"He says Nabu told him that the Blur's grave is empty," Sam repeated, looking to the masked man for answers.

Hawkman met Kent's gaze, looking from the bowling bag gripped in his hands to the ground below his feet. "Then I guess you won't have any need for shovels," he said after a beat.

"He's telling the truth? How does he know?"

Kent looked up, his fingers flexing over the bag. "Nabu knows. Nabu whispers." He pulled the bag tight into his chest and shushed it. "…quiet."

John pulled his shovel from the ground and turned to Sam, seeing his own thoughts mirrored in the younger man's eyes. The grave was empty.

They just didn't know if that was cause for hope or fear.

* * *

Bart zipped through the streets with a grim determination. Clark's body was gone, missing from his grave. It either meant Clark was out there alive, or someone had used his body to make clones. Clones would explain the multiple sightings of the Blur as well as the signs of fighting that had taken place.

_Had_ being the key word. It'd been two days since Kent had revealed Clark's empty grave. And, like a switch, the signs of struggle had disappeared too. The streets of Metropolis were suddenly as empty of the Blur as Clark's coffin.

No one saw it as a good sign.

Bart was going to figure out the answer. Even with the whole team out on patrol, he was the only one fast enough to keep up with the Blur. And if he just kept running he'd be able to spot—

There!

Bart caught a flash down an adjacent street and quickly changed direction to follow. Within seconds, he was behind the speeding figure. It was hard to see in the dark night, but as he neared he saw a familiarity to the dark-haired man who ran ahead of him.

Anger surged through him as he put on a burst of speed, gaining on the figure with ease. Just as he reached out to grab the man's arm, the imposter turned and threw out a hand. Bart's forward momentum drove him into the man's hold, until his large hand was circling his throat painfully.

Bart gasped, struggling against the grip that held him off the ground. His hands clawed at the one around his throat even as his eyes landed on those of his attacker. Dirt darkened his face and his eyes held a sense of anger Bart had never seen before, but there was no mistaking the man before him.

The hand loosened briefly and Bart pulled in enough air to squeak out a name.

"Clark?"

At his name, the alien relaxed his grip, dropping Bart. The speedster stumbled then reached out, grabbing Clark's forearms as if to anchor him in place. "Clark? Dude, tell me that's you and not some homeless-looking clone."

The anger receded from the alien's eyes as if it had never been there. Bart felt the muscles under his hands shake and he briefly worried Clark was about to collapse. He certainly _looked_ worse for wear—which, for a dead guy, was a good thing.

"It's me," Clark finally breathed, the edges of his mouth curling up slightly.

Bart tightened his grip on his arms, as he studied the familiar face. "You sure you're not a zombie?" he asked, only half-joking.

It wasn't until Clark huffed a laugh that Bart let himself relax.

* * *

There was a pause when Bart walked into Watchtower. He'd called the team back to base earlier, and the group had been anxious for answers since. They all knew what they _wanted_ the answer to be. And they also knew the chances of that were slim, if not impossible.

Bart watched the group then smiled, reaching behind him to open the door he'd just walked through. "Look who I found," he said with a flourish.

At his statement, a man walked in whom Oliver had never expected to see again. "How?" he demanded, hearing his question echoed across the group behind him. He looked back at Chloe, but her attention was focused on the newcomer. Her eyes were wide with a mix of disbelief and fear.

They'd all heard about Clark's empty grave, and they'd all stifled the same hope that an empty grave meant a resurrected Clark. It was better to be surprised than to have hope crushed. Chloe wasn't surprised, though. She was still braced for harsh reality.

"Jor-el," Clark answered simply, moving inside the room. He looked over the crowd, gaze settling on each of his teammates for a moment before moving on. Oliver nodded, when his gaze met his and sensed the moment it had found Chloe's. The alien smiled and left his gaze where it was. "He brought me back."

Oliver wanted to be skeptical. He didn't know a lot about Jor-el or what the Fortress was capable of, and the idea that a long-dead alien could resurrect Clark wasn't something he could accept easily.

But then, maybe he could. If it meant Clark was back—really back—then he could accept just about anything. "So the Blur sightings," he started, remembering a piece of the puzzle. "That really was you?"

"And two imposters," Clark said. "A cyborg and a faulty clone." His hand reached up to brush at the signs of struggle his jacket clothes held. "They're gone."

"Where did they come from?" Dinah asked.

Clark frowned. "Somewhere I'm sure we'll be hearing from again."

"Well that's not foreboding," Bart muttered wryly.

Oliver stepped forward and grasped Clark on the shoulder, meeting his gaze with a mixture of relief and warning. "If you aren't who I think you are, I'll end you myself," he assured.

Clark nodded then smiled again, the expression soft but no less sincere. "It's good to see you too, Ollie."

Oliver squeezed his shoulder then stepped back. As he stepped away, the rest of the group moved forward. They welcomed him with hugs and handshakes, and introduced him to the three JSA members in their group. Throughout it all, Chloe stayed back, waiting and watching with the two brothers at her side. There was skepticism in her eyes that kept Oliver on edge. Chloe was the final say. She was the one who knew Clark the best. If she didn't believe it was Clark, no one would.

As the rest of the team finished with their welcome back, Clark turned to Chloe, watching her warily. He knew the same thing Oliver did. Chloe was the one to convince. She was the one who decided the team's full acceptance of the newly resurrected alien.

With a frown, she took a step towards Clark, still on guard but willing. "If Jor-el brought you back…" she started, but Clark cut her off with a shake of his head.

"It wasn't in exchange for another life. He just healed me."

"You weren't dead?" Chloe asked, looking guilty suddenly.

Clark held out his hands. "I don't know. All I remember is waking up in the Fortress. The last time Jor-el healed me, I was powerless. This time," he shrugged. "I just needed time to heal on my own."

Chloe shook her head. "You were dead," she argued, her words thick with unshed tears and guilt—and uncertainty.

Clark took a tentative step forward and the room tensed. "I'm back," he promised. "It's me. I'm back, whole and healthy."

Chloe reached out suddenly, her hand resting on his cheek. "And dirty," she added. It wasn't much, but it was all the confirmation they needed. Chloe had accepted him. And to prove that point, she stepped into his expectant arms.

Oliver watched the reunion with a smile. Clark was back. The Blur was back. And they still had a chance at saving the world.

"I'm sorry," Chloe mumbled, without breaking the embrace. Oliver wanted to protest, knowing the guilt she'd felt about Clark's death was unnecessary, but Clark spoke first, pulling her closer and meeting the team's gaze over her head.

"Me too."

* * *

The drive from Metropolis was done at a slower pace than the drive than the drive to the city had originally gone, but Sam was still speeding to keep up with his brother's lead foot. If he weren't driving Chloe's SUV, he would have been tempted to race Dean—just because of the look he knew Dean would wear the moment the Impala left Chloe's four-cylinder in the dust. They were in the middle of the Apocalypse. Simple pleasures were all they had left sometimes.

"Maybe we should recruit Queen's League of Justice to hunt down the demons," Dean said, his voice ringing out from the phone Sam had settled on the dash.

Sam shook his head, not surprised that his brother's mind had been on the Apocalypse too. There wasn't much else to think about. Even the week spent in Metropolis helping the superheroes hadn't stopped their fight to end Lucifer's plans. Watchtower's computers had offered a few leads on Death, but when Bobby had contacted a hunter in the area, the leads had gone cold. Death was about as illusive as Lucifer.

"_League of Justice_," Sam repeated, pulling his thoughts from their current path.

He almost heard Dean shrug defensively. "Yeah, well, Justice Society of America sounds lame."

"And League of Justice is better?"

"Yes," Dean muttered.

Sam smiled, catching his brother's frown in the Impala's rearview mirror. "I don't think Chloe wants them hunting."

"She's one to talk. I told _her_ the same thing three years ago. If this Apocalypse keeps on the way it is going, we'll need some super muscle in our corner."

"First, we've gotta find the remaining Horsemen," Sam pointed out.

"Right," Dean agreed. "And when we do, Impulse can zip in and cut their fingers off before they know what hit them."

"Right," Sam echoed.

Silence fell over the conversation for a few miles, until Sam saw his brother look up in the rearview mirror again. "You better not be getting comfortable back there, Sammy. As soon as we pick up Chloe, you're stuck in the passenger seat."

"Chloe let me drive before," Sam pointed out with a smile.

Dean threw him a half-hearted frown. "You saying you don't like the Impala?"

"No," Sam argued. "I'm just saying that if I ride with Chloe, my knees don't hit the dash when someone shorter than me is driving."

"Everyone's shorter than you, Sasquatch."

Sam smiled, but didn't say anything more. It wasn't worth it. They both knew where Sam would be sitting once they picked up Chloe.

"We're almost there," Dean said, dropping their last line of conversation as well. "Think she and Clark are done with their heart-to-heart?"

"Guess we'll find out." Sam paused before speaking again, smirking as the words left his mouth. "Oh, and Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"League of Justice still sounds lame."

"Bite me."

* * *

"So, have you planned your big return to the superhero limelight?" Chloe asked, studying Clark as she spoke. After superspeeding the two of them back to his family's farm, he'd cleaned up, finishing the transformation back to the man she'd known.

"No. The Blur's not going to be coming back."

Chloe didn't like the sound of that. "You mean: you're not staying?"

"I mean, I need to finish my training," Clark explained. "I started off the year working with Jor-el, but somewhere along the way I got distracted. I can't let myself get distracted if I'm going to realize my full potential."

"Full potential, huh? Well, I guess it _is_ about time you learned to fly," Chloe said lightly.

"Among other things."

She smiled at the idea of her friend flying across the Metropolis skyline. It was an impressive image. "And until then, you'll just stay dead? Are you going to at least tell Mrs. Kent that you're alive?"

Clark nodded. "I'm going to head to DC on my way to the Fortress. She'll keep my secret."

"As she has your whole life."

"Exactly."

Familiar silence settled over them, and Chloe took the time to just appreciate what she had in front of her. Clark was back. No deals had been made. He was going to return as the hero she always knew he could be. It was what the world was going to need—whether or not they defeated Lucifer.

"I'm curious," Clark started, breaking the silence again. "How did you stop Doomsday?"

Chloe shook her head at the memory his question rose. She didn't like thinking about that day and the what-ifs it had created. "I shot him with the Colt."

"You shot him with a gun?"

"It's a special gun. Kills anything…well, almost anything," she corrected, remembering the Devil that still walked the Earth. "And apparently it works on extraterrestrial monsters."

Clark's confused look broke as he smiled, and then chuckled. "You _shot_ Doomsday?"

"Hand to hand combat didn't seem to be working," she pointed out, surprised that she could joke about the moment that had brought so much pain.

"I agree. I guess I'm just surprised you brought a gun to the fight at all."

Chloe gave him a pointed look. "Smarts can only get me so far. And it's not exactly affective against the big and scary."

"I know." Clark watched at her carefully, studying her just as she had been a moment before. "This is really your life now? Gun-totting and monster-killing?"

"You make it sound like a bad western," she teased then sobered just as quickly. "And yeah, I guess it is. It's not exactly ideal, but I like knowing I'm making a difference. I like being useful for more than my hacking skills."

"You are," Clark argued.

Chloe brushed off his compliment with a grateful smile. "I'm more useful now. Oliver and the team don't need me."

"But the Winchesters do?"

Chloe wasn't sure how to answer that question. The skeptical part of her said _no_—the Winchesters could handle their Apocalyptic-problems without her. But the other part, the part that needed to join the fight and make a difference—the part that couldn't imagine herself separate from the brothers Winchester—believed differently. "For now," she settled on.

A list of responses played out in Clark's eyes, and Chloe waited for one to be vocalized. She knew he was hesitant towards her life with the Winchesters. They'd been a part of her life for years now, but he still knew little about them. As a rule, Clark distrusted the unknown.

Luckily, his trust in Chloe was stronger. "Stay safe," he said finally.

"Come back," she bargained.

"I will. Soon."

Chloe's mouth quirked thoughtfully. "Will you be back as Clark Kent? Or does he stay dead?"

"He has to, for now."

"And later?"

Her best friend shrugged, smiling suddenly despite the serious topic. "It wouldn't be the first time I came back from the grave."

To Be Continued…

**

* * *

A/N:** School is only a couple weeks away from being over for the semester. And since I killed myself getting work done early(ish) in the semester my last weeks should be much lighter. With that in mind, I _hope_ to get the rest of this series done with much greater speed than I've managed. For crying out loud, I'm still stuck on episode 12 from _last_ season of SPN.

The rest of the series is almost completely planned. I've got 10 more episodes left. And I'm very excited for what's coming. Hopefully all you lovely readers are too, because you're the reason I'm still trying to finish this. :)

Anyway, to cut this ramble short: I haven't forgotten about the series. I'm fitting in as much time as I can to get this done. And with Winter Break in the horizon with little plans except to sit during that time, I should have no problem finishing this up. Finally.

Peace!


	73. Fixing History

**Summary:** Sam and Dean go back in time to save their parents, but Chloe knows you can't change the past.

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay! This chapter was hard to write (among other things). Please let me know if it's confusing. Time travel is confusing. x)

_

* * *

Before…_

At the back of the crowd, Chloe stood with her head bowed and eyes closed. A hand was tucked inside her coat, buried deep and wrapped around a piece of jewelry only recently discovered after a desperate search through Watchtower. Words were being spoken about the greatness of the hero, but she wasn't listening. She was planning.

The speech continued, tears still fell, and tucked inside Chloe's hand sat a powerful gold ring.

She hadn't saved Clark, but maybe…

* * *

Chloe stood at the back of the group, her head down and eyes closed just as she'd stood at the first funeral. Her head came up, when the brothers reached her side, but she didn't look at them, her gaze focused on failures only she could see.

The world was ending. The only way to save it was to move on and keep going.

She couldn't change the past. But there was still the future.

* * *

Chloe pounded a fist on the counter. "Why not?" she demanded. "You got hurt protecting _me_. I can heal you. Let me heal you." _Please_—but she wasn't ready beg.

"Because," Dean said simply. "That's not how it works." His gaze never met hers as he began bandaging his injury. "I don't need you to heal me."

"And I don't need you to save me," Chloe countered. "It's time _I_ saved someone for a change."

_

* * *

Now…_

Dean pulled a beer from the refrigerator then paused as the sound of life echoed from the living room. Popping the top off his drink, he followed the sound, knowing who he'd find.

Chloe stood in the middle of their living room, one foot up on a chair as she rubbed lotion over the length of her bare leg.

Dean leaned against the doorframe and took a drink of his beer, enjoying the moment. "A man could get used to this view."

She was smiling even before she turned to him, not surprised by his sudden appearance. A small laugh escaped as she shook her head. "And here I thought you loved me for my brain," she teased, tossing the lotion at him.

"Nope." Dean reached to catch the bottle. "Why else do you think I mar—"

The bottle landed in his grasp and Chloe vanished, taking the rest of his sentence with her.

He blinked and found himself face to face with another figure. "Anna?"

The angel nodded in acknowledgement. "Hello, Dean."

Dean looked down at the lotion bottle in his hand then back at the angel. "I'm dreaming," he realized.

Anna's gaze flickered over to the chair Chloe had just been standing by, before returning to him. "Yes. Sorry to interrupt. I need to talk to you."

Dean set the lotion and his beer aside, ignoring the small swell of disappointment at the shattered illusion. "Don't worry about it. What's up?"

_

* * *

[February 4, 2010]_

Sam hated waiting. Waiting gave the Devil more time to further his plans. Waiting didn't, however, allow _them_ any time to work on their own plans. The Colt didn't work against the Devil. Death was stomping around the globe, but no one could get a fix on him. And they still had no solid idea on how to stop the Devil—they didn't even have a weak idea.

All they had was a list of things that wouldn't stop the Apocalypse and another list of enemies—and both were continuing to grow.

"They're our mom and dad. If we can save them, and not just from Anna. I mean, if we can set things right. We have to try," Dean argued just as tense as he'd been the moment Castiel had figured out Anna was in the past. Sam was still having a hard time wrapping his head around the idea that an angel had _time travelled_ to make sure that he never existed.

If it weren't for the fact that it would mean the death of his parents, Sam wouldn't have been able to find a flaw in Anna's plan. There was too much blood on his hands already. He didn't need to add his parents to the list. Again.

Castiel stepped forward and so did Dean, both ready to push their point. Chloe beat them to it, placing herself between the two of them with a hand on Dean's chest. "Dean, you can't go back. It's dangerous."

As if sensing a flaw in her argument, she continued quickly. "_If_ Anna had done anything, it would have already changed the future—now. If she's going to be successful in killing your parents, we'd already know about it. I'd be standing in an empty room." She looked back at Castiel expectantly, and Sam followed her gaze, curious to see if her logic fit the angel's rules of time travel.

It made sense to him, but then two years ago he would have said time travel was impossible.

"No." Castiel shook his head. "Anna's influence on the past will not have an instantaneous effect on the present. It will take time for the change to become permanent."

"So we still have a chance to save our parents?" Dean asked.

Castiel looked torn, his gaze meeting Chloe's then moving quickly on to Dean's. "Yes, but it's still too much of a risk."

"If there's a chance, we have to take it."

In response, the hand Chloe had pressed against Dean's chest twisted until she had a solid grip on his shirt. It looked like she was anchoring him in place, and a small tug earned her an expectant look from Dean. "Do you understand how dangerous messing with time travel is?" she demanded, her tone harsh enough to match the grip she had on his shirt.

Dean blinked looking from her hand to her face. "It's worth the risk."

"No disrespect, Dean, but your parents aren't worth the risk." Sam tensed, watching Dean do the same. Chloe was treading on dangerous ground, talking about their parents in that tone. "Clark tried time travel, more than once. He went back to save his girlfriend's life—just twenty-four hours. A desperate act to save someone he loved. And do you know what happened?" Chloe asked. She pulled her gaze from Dean long enough to eye Sam, including him in the conversation.

"His dad died."

Dean's shoulders fell a little at her admission, but there was still stubbornness in his eyes. Her anecdote hadn't changed his mind.

She seemed to realize the same thing, because she suddenly pulled back from him, disappointment heavy in her expression. "It's dangerous."

"You said that," Dean pointed out.

She looked at Castiel and shook her head. "You can't make Castiel do this."

Dean's patience level appeared to bottom out as he frowned. "Then how are we supposed to stop Anna from killing our parents?"

There was an uncomfortable pause following his question. Sam watched as Chloe's face filtered through a number of emotions, finally settling on resignation. "I'll take you."

_

* * *

[January 27, 2008]_

_"You're going to kill Lilith with an antique revolver?"_

_"You shouldn't judge a gun by its barrel," she returned._

_Henriksen shook his head, wondering when the crazy would stop. He'd been possessed, fought side-by-side with the Winchesters to stop demons, and he was about to trust his life to a woman in business attire brandishing an ancient colt._

_"Okay." He stepped closer. "What do we do?"_

_She graced him with a tight smile. "Follow my lead."_

_

* * *

[May 20, 1978]_

Dean blinked. One second he was standing in the middle the motel room and the next he was on a sidewalk on a street he didn't recognize. The hand he had wrapped around Chloe's wrist was tugged free as she looked up expectantly.

For a moment, no one spoke. Even Castiel appeared uncertain of the right words.

"1978," Chloe filled in.

Sam looked around, gaze settling on a Pinto parked next to them as he spoke. "Are you sure it's the same time Anna jumped to?"

"Not a hundred percent." Chloe held up the hand that had the powerful gold ring—Legion Ring, she'd called it. "This thing didn't come with a manual."

Dean studied the ring, not quite sure how the simple piece of jewelry could do the work of a powerful angel. His job—his _life_—didn't allow a lot of room for skepticism, but a time traveling ring was not exactly in the realm of his expertise.

And the fact that Chloe had been in possession of it…

"Anna is here," Castiel confirmed. "And she's weakened."

Sam pulled his attention from the retro scenery. "Which means we've got a head start."

"Good." Dean grabbed Chloe's hand, touching the ring on her finger carefully. "Can we get an explanation now?"

She let him keep her hand for the moment. "Later," she insisted. "After we save your parents."

"Why didn't you tell us about this sooner?" Dean pressed, instead. He knew she still had secrets—most of which weren't hers to share. He'd accepted that and moved on. But a ring capable of time travel? That could have been useful a number of times over the past two years. They could have stopped the final Seal from breaking, killed Ruby, saved him from Hell…

"Because." She was watching him like she could read his thoughts. With a gentle touch, she pulled his hand from hers and stepped back. "You would have tried to use it."

"And probably saved the world from the Apocalypse, while I was at it," he countered, catching his brother's nod. He wasn't the only one who knew the kind of help the ring could have provided.

Chloe didn't respond, her attention on something over his shoulder. Without a word, she brushed past him and moved to the phone booth behind him, ending the argument by remaining mute.

"Chloe," he ground out.

Her attention remained focused on the phone book she'd picked up. With a flick of her wrist, she opened the book, scanned a few pages then ripped one out. "I found your parents," she said finally, offering him the torn page.

Dean plucked the paper from her hands, watching her instead of reading the address. "We're going to talk about this."

Her nod was sharp. "We will. Later."

_

* * *

[March 13, 2008]_

_"I wanna make a trade. My soul for Dean's."_

_"Sam, Sam, Sam." The demon moved a step closer and smiled. "I know my coworker may have given you the wrong impression, but I don't go back on deals"_

_"It's not going back," Sam argued. "It's making a new deal. Dean still had two months left on his contract. He shouldn't have died. This is setting it right—and you get my soul out of the deal."_

_The demon's smile shifted to an unsettling leer. "And what makes you think I even want your soul?"_

_"I'm Hell's golden boy, right? I'm the one who's supposed to raise Lucifer. Why wouldn't Hell want my soul?" Sam demanded._

_The demon tapped his chin thoughtfully. "True. But I think you'll still follow our plan. After all, look at your brother. You and your girlfriend thought Dean was free of his contract once Chloe killed Lilith. You thought you'd beat destiny."_

"_Lilith may have held his contract," the demon continued. "But it was Hell that owned his soul. Chloe didn't change anything. Lucifer will rise, and you'll be the one to raise him."_

_

* * *

[May 20, 1978]_

Castiel couldn't zap them to the past without seriously weakening himself, but zapping them from point A to B was still within his capabilities—which was convenient, because it saved them the hassle of stealing a car and driving to the Winchesters' home.

For the moment, no one spoke. Chloe watched the brothers, and the brothers watched the house. She couldn't begin to imagine what they were thinking. Time travelling was one thing, but time travelling to meet your parents to warn them of an angelic threat came with a whole new level of uncertainty.

She twirled the Legion Ring around her finger, stealing herself from memories. "Let's go," she directed, gently nudging them forward. "Anna will be here soon."

"What are we going to tell them?" Dean asked, not pulling his attention from the house.

"The truth." Sam's eyes narrowed defensively when his brother shot him an incredulous look. "What?"

"You really think that'll work?"

"No, but we don't have much of a choice. We've gotta tell them something."

Chloe nudged them again, eyeing Castiel carefully. The angel was tuned in to Anna, ready to announce her arrival—hopefully—before it happened. "Your mom's a hunter. She'll believe you."

"And if she doesn't?"

She shrugged though both men still had their backs to her. "Tell John his family is in danger. He'll do anything to protect his family."

Dean glanced at her over his shoulder, the same skepticism from before darkening his features. "You sound like you know him."

_We're going to talk about this._

Denial was easy, and all too convenient. But she didn't have time for it. "Later, Dean," she muttered, looking forward to the moment she would stop sounding like a broken record.

He didn't argue—though is expression told her he wanted to—just moved ahead. He and Sam taking the lead as they hurried to the Winchesters' front step. There was nothing simple about what they were about to attempt. It would be naïve to think otherwise.

Yet, when the door opened and a blonde woman greeted them, Chloe realized she'd underestimated just how _not-simple_ the situation was. They weren't just time travelling to save Sam and Dean's parents. They were going back in time to meet a woman Sam had no memory of—his _mom_. The woman who still influenced her family a quarter of a century after her death.

Carefully, Chloe reached out and rested a hand against Sam's lower back. It wasn't much, and she doubted it would help ease the impact of meeting his mother, but she had a hard time standing by while Sam was in distress.

"You can't be here," Mary hissed, her attention on Dean, ignoring the other members of the group. Ignoring Sam's inability to keep from staring at her.

"Mary, this is important…" Dean started, only to trail off when someone joined her in the doorway.

Chloe felt more than saw Sam's posture stiffen. In fact, both Winchesters seemed to stand taller in the presence of their father.

It wasn't the first time she'd witnessed it, either.

Unlike her time travelling sons, Mary stuttered a little at John's sudden appearance. Recovering quickly, she reached out and hooked a hand around her husband's arm. "Sorry sweetie, they are—"

"Mary's cousins," Dean jumped in, cutting Mary's statement short before she could force them away from her front door.

John blinked then smiled, his face completely void of the suspicion Chloe had learned to expect. "Family?"

"Yeah we were just—"

It was Dean's turn to be cut off as Castiel made his presence known, pushing to the front of the group. "You're in danger." Using a touch of angelic strength, he turned the young Winchester couple and herded them further into the house before anyone could protest. "Prepare yourselves."

"Cass?" Dean's voice was tight with annoyance and questioning.

As usual, Castiel was nonplussed by his tone. He simply continued his forward movement, his goal to protect the Winchesters. It wasn't until they were all crowded in the front entrance that he bothered to explain: "Anna's coming."

_

* * *

[May 2, 2007]_

_It took Bobby almost ten minutes to return to the brothers. Despite the dim light, the brothers' forms were easy enough to spot. They were close, Dean likely holding up his brother's body in sorrow and, possibly, denial. Bobby hurried forward, watching as details of the scene grew the closer he got._

_Dean was holding Sam._

_Sam's back was dark with blood._

_Sam was holding his brother back._

_Something cold curled inside Bobby as the last detail became evident. Sam was supposed to be dead. Bobby wasn't enough of an optimist to believe differently. The blood soaked through the younger man's jacket was evidence enough of the condition Sam should have been in._

_To have him alive?_

_His presence continued to go unnoticed until he was finally close enough to take in the whole scene. Dean and Sam were on their knees. Dean hugging his brother with the kind of desperation Bobby had expected. Sam hugging him back with a sense of bewilderment evident in his features that were mostly turned away from Bobby._

_And behind them, the body of a small blonde woman was laid out in the muddy road._

_

* * *

[May 20, 1978]_

"What the Hell is going on?" John demanded, as they all crowded into the living room. He wrenched his arm from Castiel's grip and took a protective step in front of his wife, face tight with a sense of authority that was all too familiar.

The man in front of Sam was one who knew nothing about the supernatural, and hadn't had to handle the hell that came from losing the love of his life to a demon. Yet, John's tone was one Sam recognized in his father. Hunting may have changed him to a degree, but he'd been a Marine first.

And once they weren't in danger, Sam might take the time to appreciate his father's personality—if there ever came a time when they weren't in danger.

"Something is after you and Mary," Dean explained, his attention on the front door as he worked to keep himself between their parents and the looming threat.

Sam followed suit, spotting Castiel and Chloe on the other end of the room. It looked like they were talking, but Sam couldn't be sure. He was too focused on the fact that Anna was about to burst into the room and attempt to murder his parents.

"Some_thing_?" John repeated.

"A demon?" Mary asked at the same time.

"No." Sam didn't realize Castiel had moved to his side until the angel started speaking. "Not a demon, an angel. Two of them."

If Sam hadn't already known his mom was a hunter, the frown she threw Castiel would have confirmed it. No one got skeptical quite like a hunter.

"There's no such thing," she shot back only to jump when the lights suddenly flickered, stealing the certainty from her tone.

The enemy was there and they weren't ready—story of their lives.

The light behind Sam burst and he jumped, taking another protective step towards his parents. John curled a hand around his wife's shoulder as Mary fell into a fighting stance. Behind them, he saw Chloe still huddled near the far wall, her back to them.

Another light bulb burst then suddenly they weren't alone anymore.

Cass was right. Anna had brought help.

As she turned on Sam and the parents he was guarding, her partner charged Dean and Castiel Two against six, and the humans were still greatly outnumbered—

"Cass, now!"

Chloe's cry registered a second before Castiel disappeared, and only moments before a sudden flash of light. Sam scrambled to understand even as he instinctively shielded his eyes.

It wasn't until his vision cleared and he was able to blink at the space Anna had just occupied that he figured it out. He turned and saw Chloe staring back at him, a blood-drawn sigil still dripping on the wall behind her.

"Angels are real," she muttered, gripping the cut along her forearm. "Everyone up to speed?"

_

* * *

[November 19, 2007]_

_"How do you feel?"_

_Dean turned and found Chloe perched on the bed next to the one he was still half-sprawled on. Grimacing a little at the stiffness of his muscles from having been still for so long, he swung his legs around until he sat opposite of her. Their knees just brushing each other._

_"I feel fine." Absently, he reached up to scratch at the back of his neck. He flinched as his hand encountered the familiar tackiness of mostly-dried blood. "Which, I'm assuming, is something I shouldn't be feeling."_

_Chloe was running a hand over her thigh, the movement quick and efficient, and it wasn't until Dean looked harder that he noticed the flecks of blood under and around her nails. "You died," she said, without any show of emotion._

_Well, that would explain the blood and rude wake-up. "And you healed me?"_

_"No." She finally pulled her gaze up from the floor. Dean flinched at the coldness in her eyes. She looked a lot like the woman he'd seen after she'd healed Sam in Cold Oak—instead of the woman who treated them like the old friends only she knew them to be._

_There was a slight tremor in her hand as she reached out and pressed a finger to his forehead. Dean felt the shift of crusted blood under her finger and reached up to touch the scab on his head. "You were shot. Killed instantly. There was nothing I could do."_

_"Then how…?" He gestured to himself, a sinking feeling in his gut._

_Chloe held no compassion in her eyes as they locked with his. "Sam made a deal." She almost looked angry. "He's going to Hell in a year."_

_

* * *

[May 20, 1978]_

The Impala was not a small car. A body—or two—could be kept in the back. Two full grown adults could—_sleep_—in the back seat. Yet, Dean felt crowded from his position in the back, tucked between the door and Chloe's small frame. It didn't help that he didn't particularly feel like being the same room as her at the moment, much less sharing the same backseat.

Sam frowned at him over Chloe's head, no doubt reading his thoughts. _Chill._

_I am chill._ He returned the frown then focused his attention on his parents. John was still having a hard time grasping the _monsters are real_ concept and Mary was at a loss at how to explain.

"And you _hunt_ them?"

Mary seemed to shrink at her husband's tone—a reaction Dean never expected to see from his mom. "Yes."

"I don't believe this."

"John," Chloe cut in.

He shook his head. "No. Just shut up. All of you—"

"John!" Chloe leaned forward, tone sharp as she put herself as much in his space as she could from the back seat. "I get that this is a lot to take, but we've got bigger problems right now."

"You mean the _angels_?" he guessed, tossing out the last word like an insult.

Dean shared a knowing look with Sam. They knew that tone.

"Yes." Chloe's voice and posture calmed with that simple word, the tension from her outburst dissipating. "Angels. And they're after you and Mary. They're going to kill you, John, if you don't work with us."

Growing up, Dean had rarely questioned or argued with his dad—not when John had used the _do as I say_ tone that came too easy to Marines and single dads. But when he had, he'd slowly figured out that the best way to get his opinion heard was with logic and level tones. Sharp tempers earned him nothing but an irritated father.

Calm earned him a patient ear.

"Alright." John nodded, hands still tight on the steering wheel, but his tone was decidedly relaxed. "Okay. What do we do?"

Chloe hadn't been raised by John Winchester, but the way she pulled out her reasonable tone to win her argument spoke of experience. She wasn't stupid. She knew how to get her opinion heard. It just unnerved Dean a little to realize how easily she'd won over his dad.

Dean met his dad's curious look in the rearview mirror. "We kill them first."

_

* * *

[July 19, 2006]_

_"You conjuring me, John." The demon's smirk grew as its eyes stayed golden. "I'm surprised. I took you for a lot of things, but suicidally reckless wasn't one of them."_

_John mirrored the smirk, ignoring the anger inside him. "I could always shoot you," he tossed out easily._

_"You could always miss," the demon returned, shifting playfully. It laughed, pleased with the situation, despite the gun aimed at it. "And you've only got one try—"_

_The sudden report of a gunshot was startling as it cut off the demon's words. The demon was caught mid-sentence, its mouth open and eyes wide. It wasn't until the demon suddenly jerked, body alight from the inside, that John recognized the expression on the creature's face._

_Pain._

_The demon was dying._

_And John hadn't pulled the trigger._

_"No!" he snapped, watching his last hope slip away as the demon's body jerked for a final time then collapsed in a lifeless heap._

_A girl stood behind the demon, her gun still aimed at the now-empty space before her._

_John blinked, recognizing the gun. It was the same one he held in his hand._

_It was the Colt._

_

* * *

[May 20, 1978]_

There were times when all Chloe needed was a glance from Dean to calm her nerves. Whether he did it consciously or not, he had the ability to ground her with nothing more than an unguarded look.

The looks he'd been giving her since they'd stepped through time were anything but grounding.

"What's the deal with the thing on the paper?"

Chloe turned at John's question, relieved for an excuse to avoid Dean's disappointed frown. Sam and Mary had disappeared into the next room almost as soon as they'd arrived at the old Campbell cabin, leaving her alone with Dean and John.

"It's a sigil," Dean answered. "It means…"

John stepped up to the table Dean had dropped their supplies on. His hand hovered over the sigil drawing, but he didn't touch, like he didn't dare. "I don't care what it means," he stated, cutting off Dean's explanation. "Where does it go?"

Chloe watched the two men, looking for similarities to a time only she remembered.

"On a wall or a door," Dean answered only a little uneasily.

John nodded, finally dropping a hand on the piece of paper. "How big should I make it?"

That finally got Dean's full attention. He hesitated, gaze flickering over to Chloe for the briefest moment, uncertainty in his eyes. It took her a second to realize he was asking for help. "John…" he mumbled.

"What?" John picked up the sigil, tightening his hand around the small piece of paper. "I'm not useless. I can draw a damn—whatever it is—a sigil."

Chloe saw Dean's response before he even opened his mouth, and she flinched in empathy with John. She knew what it felt like to be the outsider in the hunting world, coddled instead of trusted to pull her own weight.

"Why don't you go help Sam out?" Dean suggested, and Chloe stepped into the conversation before he could continue. Her words were going to earn her more disappointed looks, but John wasn't looking for coddling. He wanted to prove his worth.

It was a feeling she could understand.

"The sigil needs to be drawn with human blood," Chloe said, picking up the hunting knife on the table and holding out like an invitation.

"Chloe," Dean argued, reaching out for the knife. John pulled it from her grip before he could, unsheathing it and making to cut his hand.

Chloe grabbed his wrist, stopping him. "Just wait a second. Let me show you were to put it first."

John looked from her hand around his wrist to her face, and she almost smiled. The appreciation in his eyes was hesitant, but no less grounding than the look his son used to give her. _Thank you._

"Chloe…" Dean frowned when she looked back at him, but he wasn't arguing anymore.

She swallowed and dropped his gaze first. "Trust me," she pleaded before leading John out of the room.

_

* * *

[July 20, 2006]_

_When John Winchester showed up on his doorstep, Bobby didn't bother brandishing a shotgun. The man looked like he'd been through enough, and Bobby wasn't one to kick a man when he was down._

_Not even Winchester._

_A glance over the man's shoulder told Bobby he would want John alive to fill in important details, anyway. Like how it was possible for Dean to not only be conscious, but look remarkably healthy for a man who'd been on the brink of death._

_John moved past him into his house without waiting for an invitation, giving Bobby a better view of his sons—and the blonde girl in Sam's arms._

_"Who is she?" he asked, deciding it was a good of a greeting as any._

_"Not sure," John admitted, looking from his boys to the girl. "But she's got answer we're going to need."_

_

* * *

[May 20, 1978]_

"So angels, huh?"

Sam looked up at Mary's question—_his mom's question_. After explaining to her how the Holy Oil was used, they'd worked in silence, preparing for the upcoming fight. As much as he'd wanted to keep the conversation going and try to learn all he could about the mom he didn't remember, silence was easier.

For one, it didn't come with questions about rogue heavenly beings.

He sat back on his haunches, corking the oil vessel. "Yeah. Angels." It wasn't the response she was looking for, but it was all he had. "Not all of them are as great as you'd expect."

Mary's laugh was without humor. "I'm not sure what I expect. I'm not sure I even believe in angels."

"Only believe in what you see?" Sam guessed, remembering a similar conversation with his brother years earlier—before Hell and Castiel and being stuck in the middle of a Heaven's fight.

Mary nodded, finishing her own Holy Oil circle and turning her full attention on him. "I've seen a lot of things," she said by way of answering.

Sam didn't bother responding. There wasn't much to say that didn't fall under the umbrella phrase of _it's a crazy world_.

"Why?"

He blinked at the question, not catching the context. "Why what?"

"Why are they after me and John? Why now? And why are you here to stop them?"

_Because I'm your son, and I've doomed the world, and the only way to stop it is to make sure I was never born._

"I wish I knew." He dropped her gaze and returned to his task.

Mom or not, Mary would know he was lying. She wouldn't need to see his face, and he preferred not to see the disappointment in hers. "Sam…"

He tensed at her knowing tone, suddenly nostalgic for a life he'd never experienced. He stood before she could finish, cutting her words off by removing himself from the conversation. "I'm going to go see how Dean is doing," he tossed over his shoulder then walked out of the room.

_

* * *

[November 2, 2006]_

"_I want you to go back and save Mary."_

_Dean froze, hand raised to knock on the door that separated the Winchesters' motel room from Chloe's. It wasn't too surprising to hear his father inside—he and Chloe spent a lot of time discussing a future they never wanted to come to pass. Dean just didn't expect to hear John discussing Mary with her._

_Dean knew his dad had been thinking about it, yet to actually bring up the idea…_

_"No, John." Chloe's tone was direct, but even Dean caught the hint of sympathy. He dropped his hand and stood listening to the silence that followed. It was November second. Twenty three years since his mom's death. One year since Jessica Moore's._

_Sam had left an hour earlier to grieve on his own. Best Dean could figure, his dad's plea to Chloe was John's way of grieving._

_"Why not," John demanded and Dean saw the frown he was sporting, even if there was a solid door in front of him._

_"I've changed the past to save the future. Not to save your family."_

_Dean didn't bother waiting around for his father's response._

_

* * *

[May 20, 1978]_

"When this is all over, walk away, and never look back."

Dean nodded at his brother's statement. "So we're never born. He's right."

Mary shook her head, looking shocked by the turn of events. She'd been handling the threat on her life the same way all hunters did, but adding a meeting with her future sons had apparently pushed her past the point of staying poised. "I can't… You're saying that you're my children, and now you're saying…"

Dean jumped in when she trailed off. "You have no other choice. There's a big difference between dying and never being born—and trust me, we're okay with it. I promise you that."

Chloe stood behind Mary, taking in the conversation with uncharacteristic silence. As Dean spoke, her eyes widened until she mirrored the woman in front of her. "Dean…" She shook her head. "No."

He ignored her, turning back to Mary, who was protesting his words just as strongly.

"Listen, you think you can have that normal life that you want so bad, but you can't. I'm sorry. It's all gonna go rotten. You are gonna die, and your children will be cursed," Sam explained, using the same tone he used to win over stubborn witnesses.

"There has to be a way." Mary wrapped an arm around her middle, almost shrinking before them as she took in their words. The woman Dean always remembered as being larger and stronger than anything was wilting in front of them. But if it could save the future, it was worth it.

Even if it killed him to watch.

"She's coming."

Dean spun at the sudden voice, spotting Castiel at the other end of the room. The angel looked anxious, his hand twitching over the sword in his grip. "Anna's coming, and she's not alone. She found Uriel."

"Oh you've gotta be joking," Dean muttered, turning back to his mom.

"This is no joke, Dean."

Dean ignored him, gesturing at Sam. "Go find John."

"I'm here." John hurried into the room. "And we've got a problem."

"Yeah." Dean cut in. "We heard. It's show time."

John frowned at having his words cut off. "The sigils are gone. Vanished."

"It's Anna," Castiel explained, moving to the center of the group.

On cue, the lights cut out and all the windows in the room shattered. Anna had arrived, but she wasn't worried about sneaking in. The chaos and noise died as quickly as it started and Dean tensed at the feeling of a presence behind him. He and Sam turned as one, spotting an angry looking angel ready to fight. "Uriel," he guessed, catching his brother's gaze.

Sam didn't waste time nodding his agreement just charged forward. Castiel was the only one with an angel killing sword, but they could still buy him time enough to stop Anna.

Unfortunately, fighting an angel was nothing like fighting the vessel it inhabited. Angels had a strength that outdid demons. Even as they fought in sync, it wasn't long before Uriel had both brothers grimacing in pain and near-defeat.

Dean pushed himself back onto his feet, sensing Sam do the same, while the angel smirked down at them.

Uriel's next strike was cut short by a sudden blinding light. His attention turned to the living room where the rest of the fight was happening. Dean flinched through the light, looking for an opening.

A quick glance towards the others explained the sudden lightshow as Castiel pulled his sword from the chest of Anna's other partner. Dean didn't allow himself any feeling of relief as he turned back towards Uriel and lunged, knowing Sam was right behind.

The angel didn't even flinch, remaining as immobile as a wall when Dean hit him. Smiling, Uriel swung and knocked Dean back to the floor then grabbed for Sam.

Senses unfocused from his fall, Dean barely registered Uriel's next action until it was complete. Using Sam's forward momentum, Uriel grasped the younger man's head between his hands and twisted.

Dean cried out before Sam's body hit the floor, witnessing the lifeless descent in painfully slow motion.

His attention stayed locked on his brother even as another flash of light burst through the room. He didn't bother guarding his eyes. Didn't even think to grimace against the blinding light.

Sam was dead.

It wasn't until the light died and Uriel failed to end his life as quickly as he had Sam's, that he bothered to look up. Uriel was still standing over him, but his focus was on the living room.

Castiel stood in the middle of the room, his sword stained red as he stood over the bodies of Anna and her accomplice. Behind him, Mary wavered, yet held her ground, looking just as shell-shocked as Dean felt. John wasn't in sight and the only hint he saw of Chloe was a blonde head lying behind the couch—unmoving.

"Castiel," Uriel hissed, only to have his threat die as the recipient suddenly vanished.

Dean couldn't manage shock at Castiel's disappearance. Everything had fallen apart so spectacularly, he couldn't think much beyond the body next to him.

It wasn't until John walked in through the front door, looking more casual than anyone in his situation had a right to be that he felt a twinge of surprise.

"Michael," Uriel breathed, and it took Dean's scrambled mind a minute to understand.

Michael, the archangel. Not John, his dad.

"Goodbye, Uriel," Michael said with a sharp snap of his fingers. Uriel disappeared and Dean stumbled to his feet, momentarily ignoring his brother's body as he watched John—_Michael_—press two fingers to Mary's head and knock her out.

Dean was moving without thought, his target the fallen form near Michael. Sam was dead, but maybe…

"She's alive," Michael assured, before he could reach Chloe.

The statement stopped his forward movement. He stared at the angel, remembering the last time his father had been possessed. "Bring them back."

Michael's mouth twitched up. "Who?"

"Castiel." Dean pointed to his brother. "Sam."

Michael's smirk stayed steady. "I didn't kill Castiel. I just sent him back to the future."

"What? Why?"

"Because, killing him would be kind of pointless. Dad will only bring him back again."

"And Sam?" Dean pressed, ignoring the way his voice cracked.

Michael took a step closer to him, eyes locking on his and demanding attention. "First we talk."

_

* * *

[October 3, 2007]_

_Sam shifted his position on the Impala's hood, only half-listening to the conversation going on next to him. Most of his attention was on the scene in front of him—a high school baseball game._

_"Are you sure there were only two others?" his dad asked._

_Sam peripherally caught Chloe's nod. "Positive," she said. "The ghoul you killed had two children. The guys made sure there weren't any other stragglers."_

The guys._ Sam looked up at that, recognizing the reference to the future versions of him and Dean. It wasn't often Chloe spoke of the future only she had seen play out. She'd relayed the important details within the first few months, but as her time with the three Winchesters had passed the year mark the conversations about the future had nearly ended all together._

_"He's safe?" Sam reiterated, needing the confirmation even if he knew Chloe couldn't give one. They may have killed the ghouls, but no one was ever completely safe._

_And Adam was a Winchester, which meant his safety was even more fragile._

_"He's safe," Chloe said._

_Silence fell over the four of them as they turned to the baseball game, their focus on the kid playing first base. Their family._

_Sam's little brother._

_Dean's hand on his shoulder wasn't as startling as it could have been. He didn't say anything, but Sam still caught the message._

We'll keep him safe.

_

* * *

[May 20, 1978]_

The sensation of a cold, hard surface against her cheek slowly pushed through her unconscious mind, until she finally blinked awake and found herself sprawled along an unfamiliar floor. Another blink brought back memories that had her sitting up faster than her body appreciated.

By the fifth blink she was swaying on her feet, but steady enough to know something was wrong. The room around her was currently missing a number of figures who had been there before her abrupt encounter with an unyielding wall.

"Hello, Chloe."

She turned, spotting the source of the voice at the other end of the room. He stood in the threshold between the kitchen and the living room. It was dark, but she could still make out his face.

"John?"

He took a step forward, posture unlike what she remembered John possessing. "I am Michael."

"Michael?" Her fear for the missing occupants grew. "As in the archangel?"

She earned a small nod in response.

"How? I thought Dean was your only vessel."

"No. He's my _true_ vessel, not my only vessel."

The statement gave little explanation, but she still understood. "You're possessing, John Winchester?"

"It's in his blood," Michael said as if that explained everything. And it did, because Chloe had dealt with enough vessel lore to know to draw conclusions from little information.

"And the brothers and Cass?" The worry was back, just as sharp as before, straightening her spine and hardening her face. "What did you do to them?"

"Nothing. They're back home, safe." He shifted, and she recognized the small amusement in his expression. "It's just you and me."

"You let Dean go?" Angels weren't demons, but they still knew how to get their way. It didn't make sense for Michael to have his hands on Dean only to let him go.

"We'll meet again soon. I'm sure of it."

"Angels aren't omniscient," Chloe argued.

Michael looked pleased at her statement. "Maybe not, but we know when our side holds all the cards. We've won. It's just a matter of time."

"No."

"No?"

Chloe imagined it was just John she was arguing with. She knew how to argue with John. She had experience doing that. She didn't, however, have experience arguing with an archangel. "No." She shook her head and stood her ground. "You won't win."

Michael didn't bother continuing the argument. He moved past her, circling her, and she stood her ground. If he wanted to end her, running wasn't going to save her. "I could have stopped you at any point in your time travelling. You know that, right?"

She didn't answer so he continued. "I thought about it, too. Just ending you and your pointless mission so I could get on with the Apocalypse. But do you know why I didn't?"

She didn't, nor did she particularly care. But if Michael was going to play friendly…"Why?"

"Because, when this is all over. After Dean says yes and I kill my brother, he is going to be alone." He was standing directly in front of her again, watching her with eyes that attempted to convey sympathy, but failed. "Dean will need you."

"He'll need his brother," Chloe corrected.

Michael shook his head. "Maybe. But you and I both know Sammy won't be around."

She swallowed her pang fear. Sam wasn't dead. Not yet. Not for a long time.

In the mean time, her current conversation was getting old. "What do you want from me? Why did you keep me here?"

"I decided it was time we talked." The angel held out a hand and made a _gimme_ gesture. "And, I wanted your ring."

Chloe hesitated. She couldn't give up such a powerful object, even if she knew using it was a waste of time with Heaven watching their time travel.

Michael's expression shifted and for a moment he seemed to loom, standing taller than his vessel and staring down at her with the kind of intimidation only an angel could pull off. "I will have the ring, whether you hand it over or not."

"Fine." She slipped the Legion Ring off and dropped it into Michael's outstretched hand. "This doesn't mean I'm giving up."

"I'd be surprised if it did."

_

* * *

[September 18, 2008]_

_He found her a mile away from motel, her car parked along the side of the road. She was sitting on the hood, watching the woods in front of her like it held an answer to some unspoken question._

_Her shoulders shifted as he neared, an unspoken statement that he was welcome. "Are you looking at the forest or the trees?" he asked, leaning against the sun-warmed hood._

_She didn't respond right away. Her silence stretching across them in a way that was no longer uncomfortable. Carefully, he pulled himself onto the hood next to her and settled back, studying the group of trees that had her so mesmerized._

_"Sam buried you in those woods," she said as casual as if she'd just told him the time._

_After two years, he'd learned to expect her sudden insights into a past that no longer existed for her. "Seems kinda out of the way."_

_She nodded, face still turned to the woods. "He never did tell me why he chose here."_

_"Here's as good a place as any."_

_"Especially if he was going to get you back," Chloe agreed._

_Dean turned to watch her. "This is why you wanted to stop here?"_

_"Yeah. It's September eighteenth. The day you came back from Hell." Her voice was heavy with memories that Dean wasn't sure he wanted her to dwell on._

_"I never went to Hell," he assured, dropping a hand on her forearm. "You stopped it. You changed the future."_

_She finally looked over at him, eyes just as heavy as her tone had been. "I did it." It was almost a question, and he was quick to reassure._

_"You did it."_

_

* * *

[February 4, 2010]_

Michael's touch barely registered before it was gone and she stood in the middle of a familiar motel room. The adrenaline rush she'd been riding receded the moment she recognized her surroundings. Stumbling, she took a step back and sank onto the bed behind her, dropping her head into her hands to keep from falling backwards.

"Chloe?"

She didn't bother looking up, too busy trying to breathe—focusing on the failures in her mind's eye.

"Chloe?" Sam repeated, his hand curling around her shoulder.

She swallowed and blinked down at the carpet. She didn't want to respond. She didn't want to admit what had happened to her, and what Michael had explained. At that moment, she didn't want anything.

But Sam sounded worried…

"I'm sorry," she finally managed.

Another hand landed on her other shoulder, prompting her to look up. Dean was crouched in front of her, his face the same mix of concern and annoyance he always managed to blend so seamlessly. His hand slid down to hers, tracing the now ring-less finger. "It's later," he said simply. "Let's talk."

"Michael took the ring. It's not worth it."

The concern leaked from his face, leaving her with an annoyed Dean. He dropped her hand and moved back so he stood over her. "You've had access to your own DeLorean for who knows how long, and you never bothered to tell us. I think that's definitely worth talking about. I think that's worth demanding a few answers about, in fact."

"I told you already. I never said anything, because I knew you two would try to use the ring."

"You're damn right we would have tried. In case you haven't noticed, we're in the middle of the Apocalypse because we screwed up—made the wrong choices," Dean snapped, gesturing between him and Sam.

Sam frowned with guilt, but nodded. "We could have saved the planet."

Chloe shook her head and resisted the urge to drop their gazes. It wasn't often she managed to disappoint the Winchesters simultaneously. Even Castiel, standing at the edge of their conversation looked unsettled. "No. You couldn't have. It wouldn't have worked."

"Oh don't give me that _destiny_ crap." Dean was speaking with his hands as much as his words, a sign he was more than a little irritated. "You don't know what could have happened."

Chloe stood, matching his anger. Her encounter with Michael had left her reeling and Dean's accusation was the kind of solid ground she needed. "I know!"

"How?"

"Because! I tried..." The words came out sharp and ended too soft, like a whisper. "…Because, I tried," she repeated, anger deflating just as quickly as it had risen. "I found the ring after the Blur's funeral, and I put it on."

Sam's expression was torn between compassion and the same annoyance that had his brother on edge. "You wanted to save him," he guessed.

"No. I wasn't lying before: time travel is risky, and it's not worth manipulating just to save one life." She saw Castiel nod in agreement behind the brothers. "I used it to save the world. To stop the Apocalypse."

Dean's own annoyance flared at her admission. "And you didn't tell us?"

"What's to tell?" she asked wryly. "It didn't work. No matter what I did, it went rotten. I killed Lilith to save you from Hell, only you went to Hell anyway—"

"And broke the first Seal," he filled in.

She continued without acknowledging his statement. "Then, I went back to stop you from making the deal in the first place. I healed Sam, and you killed Yellow-Eyes, and then you were killed…"

"And?" Sam pressed, when she hesitated.

"And Sam made a deal. One year for Dean's life," she explained, keeping her own annoyance in check. "The Apocalypse was still on track only with a different brother headed for Hell. I couldn't stop it. You wouldn't listen to me."

"We didn't know you," Dean realized.

"No. You didn't."

"What did you do?"

"I went back further and stopped your dad from making that deal with Yellow-Eyes at the hospital."

Dean looked skeptical. "How?"

"I shot Yellow-Eyes and healed you."

"What went wrong?" Sam asked, taking a few steps back to rest against the dresser.

She dropped back down on the bed she'd vacated, memories welling up that she'd managed to stifle for over a month. "Nothing. For two years. We saved your brother Adam. No one made any deals. The Apocalypse was nothing but a story."

"I'm not seeing the downside," Dean prompted.

"She'd stalled the Apocalypse," Castiel said, finally speaking up. "Heaven would have changed things back."

Chloe huffed a laugh in agreement, dropping her face into her hands again. "All roads lead to the same destination, but only if Heaven is at the wheel."

_

* * *

[November 2, 2008]_

_He started clapping when she walked inside then smiled when her hand went to the gun on her hip. It was pulled out and aimed even as her eyes widened with recognition._

_"Gabriel?"_

_"Hey Gorgeous. Miss me?"_

_Chloe holstered her gun and kicked the motel door shut with a foot. "What are you doing here?"_

_"I'm here to change things back?"_

_Chloe looked leery. "What things?"_

_Gabriel stood and pointed shook a finger at her. "You can't play dumb, Chloe. I've been on to your little Marty McFly impersonation for a while now."_

_She looked defiant for a moment and he knew she wanted to deny his statement. But he was right. She wasn't dumb. She knew lying wouldn't work. "How did you know?" she asked finally, defeat dropping her shoulders fractionally._

_"You throw the Apocalypse off course and you don't think people will notice?" he asked in response._

_"People, no. Angels, yes." Her look was just as direct as her tone._

_Gabriel gestured to his vessel with a dramatic flourish. "I am what I am."_

_"The Trickster." Chloe crossed her arms, stubborn frown darkening a few degrees, though he could still detect the defeat in her form. She was putting up an act. A way to go down swinging. "What do you care about the Apocalypse? I thought you didn't want your brothers fighting?"_

_She wasn't asking how he was there, which was a relief in itself. He didn't really want to get into the in-depth explanations of earthly versus heavenly timelines—and how being an archangel turned trickster gave him special privileges._

_"I don't," Gabriel confirmed. "And your little sidetracking isn't going to stop their fight." He moved a step closer and dropped all attempts at humor. "It's just going to make it worse."_

_"How do you know?"_

_"I've got the gift of foresight," he mused then sobered just as easily. "And, I know Michael's handiwork when I see it."_

_"Meaning?"_

_"Meaning, you can't throw the Apocalypse off course and hope people won't notice?" Gabriel shifted in place, pacing a short path in front of her as he spoke. "Big brother has been on to your Marty McFly impersonation since it started. It doesn't matter what you change. The Apocalypse will still come to pass. Mikey will make sure of it."_

_"Why are you telling me all this?"_

_"Because, Heaven is being merciful—for once," Gabriel explained. "They're letting me handle this, instead of just smiting you and going from there."_

_"Smiting me?"_

_Gabriel shrugged. "Michael tends to get hissy when his plans get delayed."_

_Her face fell, before she could swallow her emotion. "I can't let it end like that."_

_He stepped closer, silently cursing his unspoken soft-spot for all things Winchester. They were going to be the death of him. Once he was close enough, he dropped a hand on her shoulder and met her watery gaze. "Then don't."_

_Something flickered in her eyes, but he didn't take the time to analyze it. He knew. The Winchesters had left their mark on her, but the determination that darkened her eyes? That was uniquely hers._

Good girl.

_He snapped his fingers._

To Be Continued…


End file.
